What We Are
by AzureDarkangel
Summary: In order to ensure Kyrie leads the perfect life, Nero has to leave behind the very girl he cares most for. Maybe in time the memories will fade. So until then, Nero departs from Fortuna to go to the only person he can rely on: Dante. The demon hunter easily accepts him and takes on the arduous task of bringing the kid back to his feet. Warning: M/M and features artwork.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Devil May Cry.

**Author's Note**: I've always liked writing as a kid. Well I liked reading first. Haha nerd over heer but I dun keer. Might as well write about things I like, even if I'm not even sure of my writing skills. So to make up for my writing, I'll also be drawing for this story as well. Writing and drawing? I must have no life- OR I simply love what I want to do and I will dedicate a decent amount of time to see things finished. I'm also a full time student in my 2nd year of college, AS WELL AS a full time GAMER~ okay enough gayness. Lol Hope you like what I imagined up.

**P.S**: oops, did I forget to mention this will be a Dante/Nero story? I did? Well, it's going to happen eventually. So if you don't like the stuff, back off from this. You've been warned, I guess. Lol

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Prologue

He was getting sick of it. The way people of Fortuna stared at him like he'd attack them at any second. Nero knew that the moment his Devil Bringer was revealed, the islanders would cast him out, and it didn't matter to them that he drove the demons and corrupt knights out of their 'holy' church. He was a demon. It was all they would ever see in him.

Kyrie was the only ray of hope he had on Fortuna, but it pained him to know that the others viewed her as tainted for being with him. She was so sweet, so pure. Nero watched her back as she prepared their dinner and he thought about how she had accepted him on the day he saved Fortuna. How she had held his demonic arm in her fragile hands.

His ears pick up the sound of her voice humming softly to herself.

Part of him felt relieved that he didn't lose her.

The aroma of spices wafted throughout the kitchen.

Yet another part of him hated that he brought this difficult life upon her.

He couldn't save Credo and now he was bringing the scorn of Fortuna to Kyrie. Nero knew that the longer he stayed around her, the more difficult a life she'll have. He can't give her a normal life. He wasn't normal. Or even human.

"Nero?"

Her voice broke Nero out of his thoughts and he straightened himself up in his seat. "Yeah? Sorry I was just thinking."

"About what? And can you set up the table?"

He got up to grab the plates in a cabinet above the sink. "Nothing really." He set the plates down and sat back in his chair.

"Are you sure?" She turned around, iron skillet in hand, and proceeded to serve their meal on the plates. He didn't really pay attention to the food. He had lost his appetite and all he was focused on was Kyrie. She sat down in front of him and his hand immediately moved to hers.

His heart swelled with warmth knowing that she doesn't flinch away from him and he smiled gently at her. He saw the hint of pink coloring her cheeks and felt his heart race a bit faster. As he held her hand in his, Nero was silently telling himself that he's only making things harder, that he has to forget about his feelings for her, and place her well-being before his selfish desires. He knew he can't give Kyrie the life she deserves and he had already ruined what little she had. Credo's death had been his fault, he was the one who failed to bring her brother back safely, failed to save him in time, and he was also to blame for getting Kyrie kidnapped. The Order had used Kyrie as a means to get to him and he didn't want anything like that to happen again. Kyrie's life will take precedence over all else. And it will be a life without Nero.

He released her hand, albeit reluctantly, mumbled a quick apology and thanked her for the meal. Parting from Kyrie will be the hardest thing he'd ever have to do. More so than facing off hordes of possessed Knights of the Order. The smile that Kyrie gave him nearly broke his resolve. Nearly. With that one simple and innocent act, Nero felt his world come crashing down at the thought of never seeing it again. He wished he'd never have to leave her side, but doing so will endanger her, and it's a selfish wish.

* * *

That very night, Nero prepared to leave Fortuna, the small little island where he had spent practically his whole life in, where happy memories were made in his youth. The lights were off; the moonlight filtering through his room's window was all he needed to see in the darkness. Kyrie didn't need to be alerted if she happened to wake up and decide to check on him in the middle of the night. He packed only the bare necessities; his clothes, toiletries, and most importantly- his weapons.

After his favorite revolver, Blue Rose, was tucked securely into its holster and his custom-made sword, Red Queen, strapped tightly onto his back, Nero looked down at his demonic arm. His thoughts turn angry and dark as he stared at it. He hated it. When it warped his arm into this thing… into the Devil Bringer, it was then that he knew he wasn't human. For days Nero had been in denial, going so far as to cover it up within a sling, but it didn't change the fact about what he truly was, and when the day came that his cursed arm was revealed, Nero wasn't shocked about Fortuna's change in demeanor towards him. It was only natural they would distrust him after the whole savior incident, regardless of him taking down the real threat. To the people of Fortuna; he was a demon.

Double checking to see if he had all he needed, Nero glanced around the room for anything he might have missed. Almost unconsciously, his eyes stopped on the picture frame atop his bedside table. It was a group photo; him, Kyrie, and Credo smiling into the camera. Nero went over to it and picked up the frame. _Those were happier days._ As he contemplated on whether or not to bring it along, his thumb traced over Kyrie's gentle smile. _No, leave it._ It will hurt him to see it all the time and make him want to return to Fortuna. He had to leave behind everything of sentimental value. So he forced himself to put it back down, grabbed his backpack, and left the room before he changed his mind.

Quietly, he sneaked past Kyrie's bedroom, sparing only a moment to look back at her door. A sinking feeling filled his heart, he can't make himself say goodbye. Not even in his thoughts.

* * *

A/N: I posted my deviantart on my profile if you're interested in getting a general idea of how I might draw our beloved characters. I've already drawn a handful of the two but I won't publish them yet on deviantart. Want to do those at the same time as this story for lulz sake. I alsooo have the whole story somewhat planned out. So no one has to worry about me ditching this story. Whatever works, yes? I'm also going to keep updating even if my story sucks. Cuz I grew the balls to publish something. OH OH! Constructive criticism will help me improve! Feel free to also point out any grammatical errors that I missed. Or tell me if something doesn't make sense. I worry about the way I word things. l:C

I beta'd thiis maself.


	2. Chapter 1: Arrival

**Disclaimer**: Do I have to do this every time? Oh well, just to be safe- I do not own Devil May Cry.

**Author's Note**: My first review! EVAR! Thank you SirenaLoreley for your kind words! It made me happy to see that a couple of readers became interested. c': This chapter is going to have the first drawing for the story. Woo woo? So my updates will also be based on when and if a chapter has a drawing. I'm not going to do it for every chapter. Hell no- let me be lazy! Happy reading~

****** Denotes I have a link for the scene on my profile

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Chapter 1: Arrival

Capulet city was not what Nero would consider a very welcoming place; with its old, ratty looking buildings, trash and vagabonds littering the tiny streets and alleyways, and the all-around murkiness that not only impaired his vision, but seemed to also pollute the very air he breathed. Nero decided that he did not like the cluttered, shut-in atmosphere of the city; it made him feel sick and claustrophobic despite its larger size compared to the clean, open air of Fortuna. The dreary city would never be Nero's first choice to go to, but he knew a certain half demon resided in Capulet, and he knew of no one else to turn to outside of Fortuna.

Nero traversed through the narrow streets; he knew what he was looking for but he didn't know where to look. Capulet city was a maze and he was quickly becoming directionally disoriented. It didn't help matters when the homeless kept stopping him in his tracks to beg him for money. He brushed them all aside, not because he didn't care, but because he had used up all his money just to get to the damned city. He was growing impatient and annoyed with every passing second, Nero went into the nearest building. The strong smell of coffee assaulted his nose and he instantly knew he had entered a café. There were waitresses going from table to table on roller-skates, who looked as if they were dancing to the lively tune that was being played from a radio. He would never understand the strangeness of city folk, but at least it was better than the cold inhospitality of the city outside.

He shook his head and took a seat at a counter. Not a minute later a waitress came by, a cheerful smile on her delicate features. "Hey, Dante! Back alr-?" She stopped mid-sentence when she realized she was wrong and stared at Nero in confusion. "Oh. I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else." She said, quickly correcting herself.

"You know Dante?" Nero asked the young waitress. Inside, he was relieved that he finally found some information and had a chance to see someone familiar. The foreign city had him more on edge than he initially thought.

"Yeah, he comes by here often. You also just missed him." She added by pointing out the door.

Nero was up and out of his seat in the next moment. "Where did he go?" He looked out the windows to see if he can catch the tell-tale sign of red and the shock of white hair that was so much like his own.

"He runs an office nearby called Devil May Cry. Big neon sign. You can't miss it!" She leaned over the counter-top to gesture him the direction. "Just keep heading straight up from here and you'll find it."

Nero was already out the door before he could hear her ask if he was related to Dante.

_Finally. _Nero was actually worried if he would have to keep searching for god knows how long and if he would have to camp out in the streets until he found Dante. Following the waitress' general direction, Nero jogged straight ahead while he kept an eye out for the older man. When he came to a junction, there across the street he saw a giant neon sign that blinked _Devil May Cry_ in red.

"What a stupid name." He said to no one in particular, before crossing the short distance to the front door.

Nero knocked on the door, idly looking around as he waited patiently for a response. When no one answered, he knocked again, harder this time. Still no reply. _He must not be back. _So Nero decided to go inside, the door creaking slightly as he pushed it open. It was dim inside the office he had stepped in; the lights were out, and from what Nero could judge by all the trash and dust collected on the floor, it looked as if the place was never occupied. Nero trudged carefully through the mess and scanned the cracked walls and worn-out furniture. _There's pizza boxes everywhere. What the- _Then his keen senses were picking up another presence, his Devil Bringer flashing blue, and all thought about the filthy office was set aside as he tried to discern what and where it was. He realized it was too late to tell if it was friend or foe; he was forced to draw his gun and aimed it in the direction he guessed the presence would appear.

Ice blue eyes met Nero's; a familiar smirk graced rugged features.

"Old man." Nero said in slight surprise as his stance faltered a little. He knew he was in Dante's office, but he definitely didn't expect a greeting like this.

******Dante quirked an eyebrow at Nero from behind the barrels of Blue Rose aimed at his face. "Surprised to see you too, kid." He had Rebellion out and held it against Nero's neck, its steel blade grazing the sensitive skin there. "I felt a demonic aura, but I didn't think I'd find you wandering around in my place."

Nero scoffed at the older man. "Yeah, lovely home you got here by the way."

The two hunters didn't lower their weapons; they were in a dead-lock, ready for a fight and reveled in the presence of a worthy opponent. The excitement of battle shined in both of their eyes, and each was eager and willing to go against one another to test their mettle. So they stood in silence, grinning at each other in a challenge, until finally, they simultaneously broke apart.

"Don't get me wrong," Dante started, clapping a hand onto Nero's shoulder. "It's nice to see you again, but what brought you here all the way from your cozy little island?"

"Just felt like I needed to see more of the world." Nero answered nonchalantly and shrugged his shoulders for emphasis. Nero wasn't lying, but he knew that he wasn't telling Dante the whole truth. He knew he could trust Dante, but he also knew that the hunter didn't really need to know his reasoning for leaving Fortuna behind. It was too personal. He didn't want to look weak in front of Dante.

Fortunately for Nero, Dante didn't question him anymore about it and easily accepted his answer. He walked over to his desk, turning on the lights as he went, before he sat himself down on his chair. "So now you're wondering if I can help you out in the big bad world, eh?"

"Shut it, old man." Nero quickly retorted, crossing his arms in seriousness. "But yeah, if you have any unwanted jobs, then I could take them off your hands."

"Hmm… tempting…" Dante mockingly stroked the stubble on his chin as if he was thinking deeply. "And what would I get for helping you?"

"Less work." Nero stated bluntly.

Dante chuckled at his attitude. "And you got a place to stay?"

Nero looked around the dingy office, at the dusty floor and neglected furniture. "I'll find my own place after I make enough money."

"Are you saying you'll be crashing here in my office?"

"Not because I want to."

"Alright." Dante leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk. "Make yourself at home." And with that, he gestured using his thumb. "You can use the room upstairs."

"Thanks." He was really grateful for what Dante's doing for him. He nodded at the older man before he made his way up the stairs. With every step he felt the weight lift off his shoulders from the thought of finally getting some rest. Ironically, he never realized how heavy his bag and Red Queen had gotten on his back, but once in the room, he slipped the backpack off his shoulder and dumped it by the door. After Red Queen was unstrapped and laid against the wall by his bag, he strode over to the bed and placed Blue Rose on a drawer table nearby. He flopped face-first onto the bed in exhaustion.

The bed was surprisingly soft, he noted to himself. As he laid there on the cushioned mattress, Nero absent-mindedly registered the scent of the pillow beneath his head. It was a dark, heady scent – of blood and gunpowder – and strangely, there was a subtle sweet smell underneath it all. It was very faint, and as Nero was sniffing the pillow, eyes closed, he realized belatedly that he was in Dante's bed. Nero flipped onto his back hastily, feeling awkward now that he knew he was given Dante's room. The whole area was permeated with the older man's scent and Nero mentally tried to block it out.

_I need to find my own place. Soon. _Part of him was starting to feel guilty for intruding. Especially, when there was no space for him to stay without inconveniencing Dante_. For a demon hunter, that old man is too nice…_

The orange-red glow of sunset seeped in through the grimy windows and Nero found himself reminded of the warmth of Fortuna; a vivid memory of Kyrie singing just for him played inside his mind. Cursing himself, he covered his eyes against the vibrant colors that managed to break through the dust-covered glass. He couldn't go back. He shouldn't think about her. He needed to forget.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Kid, I'm ordering pizza." Came Dante's voice, which was a much needed- and welcomed- distraction. "You want anything?"

Nero got up and opened the door for Dante since it seemed rude to talk to him through the door. "Anything's fine, really." He said to the older man before he sat back down on the bed. Nero didn't realize Dante was watching him closely until he looked back up to see Dante's eyes trained steadily on him.

"You settling in okay?" Dante asked, a hint of concern in his voice, or maybe that was just Nero being paranoid that the older man sensed something was off.

Out of sheer habit, Nero rubbed at his nose in embarrassment. "Oh… yeah- and thanks... for letting me use your room."

"I barely use it. Gotta stay by the phone." Dante nodded his head toward the desk on the lower floor. Then he was back to watching again and it had Nero squirming under all the scrutiny. If the older man hadn't figured it out by now, then Nero's nervous energy was a definitive indicator that things were amiss.

"Uh… yeah?" Nero asked, uncomfortable from all the staring.

Dante looked like he was going to say something, but then he shrugged his shoulders. "You look tired, kid. Was just wondering if you're all right." So he could tell- well as if it wasn't obvious enough with the way Nero fidgeted.

"I'm fine. Just tired from the long trip." Nero scratched the back of his head. "Even got lost trying to find you in this city."

A small chuckle came from Dante. "Well, I'll call you when the pizza arrives." As he left, Dante closed the door behind him and relief flooded Nero's systems when he heard the sound of Dante's footsteps retreating down the stairs.

Sighing, he laid back down on the soft mattress. Despite after being told that the older man didn't really use the room, Dante's scent was the strongest here. Nero felt around the plush comforter with his hands. _Dante's a horrible liar._

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A/N: Thanks again for reading! Hope you'll stay for the ride. Am I saying that right? Haha who cares.

But wow, I guess adding a direct link to the picture is a no-go. Just head to my profile for the link. Sorry. :c Happy Valentine's Day everyone!


	3. Chapter 2: House Keeping

**Disclaimer**: DMC is not mines.

**Author's Rant**: Wow, uh, I'm surprised I managed to get some follows for my story. lol Well you guys made me happy. c': *sniff*

I'm actually having too much fun with this writing now. Why can't I be this enthusiastic about my essays?! We all know I ain't the only who bullshits through papers. hehe oh and no picture for this chapter, I'm struggling with freakin' statistics. I HATE MATH. Anyways. The band Red is a huge inspiration for this story. "As You Go" was on repeat. I'm sorry for my fragmented rant, but give 'em a listen if you're a fan of rock. :D

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Chapter 2: House Keeping

It had only been a few days since Nero made a temporary residence at Devil May Cry and the piles of trash strewn about the place was already bothering him to no end. Taking it upon himself, Nero decided to do some house cleaning for his own sake; it also provided Nero something to keep himself busy with since Dante still hadn't offered him any jobs.

The older man was out again; Nero guessed Dante was either on a mission or chatting up local girls at a bar. Whatever the case, now was a good time to get started with the mess that littered the office floor. The pizza boxes were the first priority, seeing as how dozens of them were stacked in piles around the desk. Nero made quick work with them and stuffed all the empty pizza boxes into plastic bags. He was shocked to see how many bags he needed to use.

_How is he not sick from eating the same thing every day?_ Nero shook his head in disbelief and carried the bags outside. He found it annoying that he was actually cleaning up after the older man but he was being given a place to stay and told himself that he'll try to keep Dante from making a future mess as he tossed the trash bags to the curb. Next, he managed to find a broom in the weapons rack. Why a broom had been left with deadly equipment gave Nero plenty of ideas to speculate about, but he doubted a broom would do much damage to an enemy, much less to any of the demons that were likely to be hunted by Dante. Nero stopped his wandering mind and began sweeping throughout the office; at the center stood a pool table, its pool balls scattered across the felt top from an unfinished game. Located nearby was a large leather couch. Nero suspected that was where Dante had been really sleeping on for the past couple of days and he suddenly felt guilt for the older man's sleeping accommodations. Nero really wished he could afford to rent an apartment or something so he didn't have to intrude on Dante like this. So far, Dante hadn't given him any hints about jobs yet, but Nero hoped he'll get to take one soon. The sooner, the better actually.

Nero continued his sweeping and noticed a jukebox in the corner of the office. Curious, he set the broom aside on the wall and went over to the old machine. It wasn't on, but Nero could clearly see that it was plugged into an outlet. He started pushing random buttons to see if the juke box would turn on, but nothing happened; the dusty old thing stayed dead.

_Guess it's just broken. _Nero lightly banged on the wooden top and the jukebox instantly sparked into life, its lights flickering on. Startled by the unexpected white noise emanating from the machine, Nero jerked away from it. Eventually, the static gave way to tacky, outdated music which blared loudly from its speakers. Already, Nero was regretting his decision to turn the old jukebox on. So after a few excruciating minutes and repeated smacks from Nero, the jukebox finally died out and was silent once again. _Damn thing. _Nero returned to his earlier task of cleaning up, his ears still ringing from the horrible music.

After he was finished with cleaning, Nero returned the broom to its spot on the weapons rack and then called himself stupid for actually putting the broom back where he found it. Nero dismissed his little blunder and took in the view of the office; he did what he could and was able to clean up most of the troublesome messes, yet he knew the office still looked like it had seen better days. At least now there was enough room to walk without stepping on week old pizza. The dust was aired out through the windows as well and above all- the place was simply cleaner. Nero couldn't wrap his mind around how Dante could stand to live in such a dirty place, but he figured it was just pure laziness on the older man's part.

Suddenly, the phone on Dante's desk began ringing. If it was a customer then Nero could finally earn some cash and he knew it'd be more convenient to accept jobs while Dante wasn't around. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Nero decided to take the initiative and answered the phone call.

"Hello?" The caller asked, "Is this Devil May Cry?"

"It is."

* * *

The job Nero had taken involved slaying a demon that had been preying on helpless young women during the night. It took quite some time, but Nero found the target stalking its new prey; he interrupted the demon before it could ambush the unsuspecting woman, who was ignorant enough to travel alone at night. Nero chased after the fleeing demon but it tried to use the darkened paths behind buildings as a tactic to lose the young hunter. It was a fatal mistake for the demon. The winding paths only ended up working against the demon's plan and it had mistakenly cornered itself.

So when Nero blocked the only exit out of the little dead-end alley it had run into, the demon tried to plead with him. Not one word uttered by the desperate demon got through because Nero blew its head off into pieces using his revolver. The stone wall behind was splattered with black demon blood; globs of its remains clung to the surface of the building. Nero felt no remorse as he watched the headless corpse slink to the ground.

The thing sickened him. It would grovel for its own life but easily take the life of a mother, daughter, or sister despite any pleas for mercy.

Nero told himself that he's not truly a demon – at least not a demon as depraved as the one he had just gunned down. Turning his back on the gruesome scene before him, Nero made his way out of the alley and headed toward his next destination; he was to meet up with the client and receive his reward. The rendezvous was at an address located near the edge of the city. Nero didn't have any cash on him so he was stuck with a long trek.

The sun had set long ago and now the moon casted a silvery light across the cityscape, making it look more dull and eerie than usual. Nero looked up and down the street he was on; hunting the demon had led him far from the brighter lights of the city and he knew it would take a while before he could reach his destination. Even longer if the confusing paths and narrow streets manage to make Nero lose his way – again.

Nero felt as if he would never get used to Capulet; it made him feel trapped, especially with its tall, rigid buildings that loomed ominously overhead. Pretty soon, Nero started to feel homesick, so in an abrupt attempt to divert his thoughts, he punched a nearby wall, feeling the bricks crumble beneath his demonic fist. Nero was getting pissed. It seemed as if every little thing was determined to remind him of what he left behind in Fortuna – who he left behind, and now his days are spent fighting against the memories that threatened to overwhelm him.

_Focus. Report to the client, get the cash, and go back home. _Home. Nero wondered if he should start considering Dante's office as a new home – or at least a place where he was welcomed. As rundown as the place was, it had become a safe haven for Nero; a place where he can rest assured knowing he won't be blamed or judged because of what kind of blood he carried within him.

A gust of cool wind blew by, swirling up scraps of discarded paper. While walking, Nero looked up into the night sky and wondered if the old man was waiting back at the office with more pizza. At that thought, Nero scoffed and chastised himself. He will _not_ start liking pizza. There's only so much pizza he could eat before he gets sick and tired of having it for every meal.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner; pizza was all Dante seemed to live off of.

Finally, Nero arrived at quaint little pub. Once inside, he was able to find the client based on the description given to him over the phone and was paid a hefty sum of cash for a job well done. Nero pocketed his payment and made a mental note to go grocery shopping later on.

* * *

Sure enough, when Nero returned to Devil May Cry, there on top of Dante's desk was a steaming hot box of fresh pizza.

"You're just in time for dinner." Dante pronounced, holding up a slice of cheesy pepperoni pizza to show Nero what was obviously on the menu for tonight.

"Again?" Nero said exasperatedly, but he knew it was to be expected and still went to grab his own slice.

"Whine all you want- you know you love it."

"Whatever," Nero retorted before he took a bite. He felt the melted cheese burn his tongue slightly and saw the delicate strings it created. Nero won't deny that pizza was delicious, but it was better to eat it once in a while.

"So what were you out doing? Dante asked, looking genuinely curious.

"I did a little job while you were gone. Hope you didn't mind." Nero sat down on the couch, which creaked under his weight, and he started feeling guilty all over again; he knew Dante was sleeping on the lumpy old furniture and not on his own comfortable bed because of him.

"Quick to work, aren't you?" Dante was already reaching for another slice of pizza.

"And spend all day cleaning up after you?" Nero remarked, eyeing the soon-to-be-empty box. He hoped the older man won't be stacking pizza boxes again after he just cleaned up the place.

"I noticed my office looks better. Thanks, kid, but you know you didn't have to clean."

"Just didn't want to freeload." Nero admitted. He finished his slice of pizza; one was enough since he didn't have much of an appetite tonight.

With a smirk, Dante teased him, "Looks like you've been raised as a house wife."

"Go to Hell." Nero partially growled. Once again, another memory stirred within him; of times when he had helped Kyrie with her chores. She was always humming a little tune as she set about doing her daily tasks. Now, he could only hear her echoing hollowly in his memories. Nero mentally pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind before Dante could notice. "I chose to pull my own weight."

"If only someone taught you some manners." Dante added, the smirk never leaving his face.

The corners of Nero's lips twitched upward. "Like yours is any better than mines."

"Kid. I'm practically charming." The older man drawled, leaning back lazily in his chair with his arms crossed behind his head.

"Right..." Nero walked over to Dante's desk and snatched the box; a few slices of pizza still remain untouched. "Starting tomorrow, we'll be eating something other than this. And I mean _real_ food."

With a whine unbefitting the legendary son of Sparda, Dante tried grab the pizza box back, but Nero was quicker, managing to avoid the pair of swift hands, and ignored all protests from the older demon hunter.

"What's the matter, old man?" Nero taunted. "Can't keep up anymore?" For the first time in what felt like ages, Nero found himself laughing.

* * *

A/N: And there you have it. I tried to get more interaction between the two. I'm doing my best to keep them in character and stuff. Sorry if this doesn't feel so lovey-dovey romantic comedy. I think I don't have a romantic bone in my body (no, seriously), yet here I am shipping the two in the most manliest way possible. lol I might be kidding. I love things subtle. So I hope I'm not making anyone squint to see the budding relationship between the two.

Also, are my chapters too short? I am updating soooorttaa weekly, soooo faaar, so would that make up for it? I get the feeling no one's gunna respond to me but i'm just throwing my worries out there. lol. :B

Most importantly, thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 3: Anxiety

**Disclaimer**: DMC is not mine.

**Author's Note**: PICTURE TIME! I drew for this chapter. c: Nothing special but I SUGGEST you wait until you reach the scene, or else you'll spoil yourself silly. Not really spoil, per se, but it's still... something. xD **Denotes I have a link for the scene on my profile.

**Warning**: This chapter is a bit graphic. Well to me it is. So no one can say I didn't warn you! I recently found out FF was purging really mature stories... (and I just started! D: ) so I'm gunna be keeping a back-up in case. Will be posting on livejournal or some other site if anything happens.

Haha thank you SirenaLorely and grandshadowseal for the feedback! I listened! Much appreciated! xD And also thanks to everyone else whose taken the time to leave a compliment. I will try HARDZ, updating when possible! I read all reviews... but I just realized I could reply back in the review place. I'm... **stupid.** I thought it was just for the readers. xD I'll be responding back there as well instead of here. lol

Ohhh yeahhh, sometimes I will type my stories with my PS3… (*cough*this chapter*cough*) Because I have friends who like to peek at what I'm doing. One was like, "Gay." When he saw all the text on my screen, but I doubt he knew what I was _really_ writing. ;D Anyways, expect mistakes. Though, I'm still careful and I do recheck it on a word processor before I publish! I still have no beta, but thats okay! Maybe...idk.

Onwards to the clusterfuck of words!

* * *

Chapter 3: Anxiety

Nero was running. His heavy breathing coupled with his frantic footsteps were the only sounds that echoed around him. He had to hurry – hurry before it's-

A man was falling to his death.

"Credo!" Nero shouted; his hands reached out and grasped at empty air. There was nothing but a black void that stretched out endlessly around him. And it seemed to encase him, suffocating him, as he desperately tried to hasten his speed. Nero's shoulders sagged when he lost sight of the man. He had only been a few feet away from catching Credo – a few feet too late to save him.

_Why couldn't I run faster!?_ Nero started to scream, despair eating him from the inside because he couldn't save his best friend, the one who had always watched over him. He sank to his knees as the violent sobs racked his body.

"Nero…" A soft voice came from behind; Nero knew who that particular voice belonged to and he didn't know if he could last another painful encounter. Steeling himself, Nero slowly turned around to face his next dread.

There, standing behind him and waiting patiently, was Kyrie.

"Why did you go...?" She asked him somberly; tears stained her fair cheeks. Kyrie truly looked angelic as she stood crying before him and it broke Nero's heart once more.

"I had to. I-…" Nero stood up, still bleary-eyed, and carefully inched himself closer to Kyrie. "I wanted you to-…" Like a wisp of smoke, Kyrie dissipated the moment his fingers brushed against her dress. In confusion, Nero frantically looked for Kyrie. _I almost had her!_

"You abandoned us."

Nero whirled around. There were two voices this time; Credo and Kyrie had reappeared; their eyes filled with sorrow as they both stared at him.

"It's not like that!" Nero pleaded to them in earnest, desperately hoping they would understand. Again, Nero tried to close the distance between them – yet again, they slipped further from reach. "Listen, I had-…"

"You betrayed us!" Both Kyrie and Credo say, their synchronized voices reverberated angrily in the endless void, making them sound completely inhuman. Blood was dripping out from every orifice on the two siblings and Nero could do nothing but watch in horror as a dark pool of red sluggishly trickled around their feet. Credo started to slowly melt away; his face melancholic as he watched Nero until he eventually became reduced to nothing but a bubbling mass of flesh.

Now only Kyrie was left standing alone in front of Nero. It was a morbid sight for him to see blood oozing from Kyrie's eyes – her eyes that continued to stare at him, devoid of any emotion. With finality, she lowered her lids and spoke one last time in a voice that could only hint of a deeper regret.

"I will die because of you."

* * *

"No!" Nero shot up in bed, his hands clenching the sheets within a tight fist. He was gasping for air and sweat beaded his forehead.

_A dream... it was just a dream... _Nero took a deep breath, dropping his head into his hands. The images of his dream were burned into his mind and he felt his throat constrict in pain as he stifled his cries.

"Kid?" Someone called. Since Nero's mind was still in a haze, his heart jumped in panic even though he knew the voice belonged to Dante's. Nero barely registered the sound of the door opening as he quickly tried to compose himself before the older man saw him.

"Hey, are you alright?" Dante touched Nero's shoulders but it made Nero reflexively flinch from the sudden contact.

_Get it together!_ Nero swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and tried his best to sound calm. "I'm fine, uh… trouble sleeping."

"You're pale. Got sick or something?" Dante was getting closer to Nero so he could have a better look.

"Maybe…" Nero lied, leaning away, but Dante places a hand over Nero's forehead. _Does the old man understand the concept of personal space?_

"Your temperature feels fine." Dante says; his face looking oddly concentrated.

Nero swats the older man's hand away, feeling agitated and nervous at the same time. "You don't need to do that."

"Maybe I'm not checking it right…" Dante murmured, ignoring what Nero just said. He leaned into Nero's face and gently touched their foreheads together.

"What are you doing?!" Nero sputtered as he pulled away but Dante tried to keep a firm grip on Nero's shoulders.

"Will you stop moving around?" Dante ordered as he tried to pull Nero back close.

"I said-!"

"What. Is. _This?_" A feminine voice drawled, catching the attention of the two men grappling on the bedside.

A tall blonde woman stood by the door with a look of bemusement clearly written on her face. Accompanying the blonde was another woman of a smaller stature; she had stylishly cropped black hair and sported a pair of sunglasses.

Dante released his hold on Nero and straightened himself up to greet the two women. "Trish! Lady…" He paused for a second to stare seductively at the shorter woman. "I didn't think you girls would be coming by today."

"Apparently." The woman named Lady said with contempt, her arms crossed. Even behind the tinted frames it was obvious she had a scowl directed at Dante.

"Come on, Lady. Always gotta jump to conclusions." Dante strolled languidly over to her. "I was honestly checking his temperature." Nero felt his cheeks getting warm because he realized how the situation must have looked to outsiders.

Lady only answered with a scoff and purposely turned her face away from Dante.

To distract himself from his embarrassment, Nero switched his attention over to the blonde and he swore that he had seen her before. _She looks familiar. And what did Dante call her again? Trish? Oh yeah. She was the one who disguised herself as a member named 'Gloria.'_

He had almost forgotten about her; the dark-skinned blonde with bowl-cut hair was the same busty woman that entered the room. Of course, her complexion was lighter now and she dressed almost as scantily as before with her skin-tight leather pants paired with a black corset that showed off her ample cleavage. Nero never bothered to remember Trish. Mostly because the woman was a dangerous tease and all Nero needed to focus on was Kyrie.

Trish caught Nero staring at her and sauntered over to his side. "Like what you see?" She cooed, her seduction rivaling Dante's.

"No." Nero avoided looking in her direction now, keeping his eyes off the sway of her hips. The woman had always been the provocative type; every movement she made was meant to capture any man's attention.

Trish's sultry laughter resounded in the room. "Maybe I should fix that? Hmm~"

_I'd rather you don't._ In annoyance, Nero pinched the bridge of his nose. _I just want to be left alone…_ The images of his horrific dream were still floating around in the back of his mind, and right now, Nero didn't want to deal with either the noise or his thoughts.

"Careful, kid." Dante said, pulling Nero's attention back to the clamor. "She'll eat you alive."

Another fit of laughter came from Trish; she gave a slight tilt to her head as she smiled coyly at Dante. "And you won't? We saw the way you were pawing at him earlier."

"I said I was just-!" Dante started, his finger pointing at Trish, but then he dropped his hand and lamely sighed in defeat. "Forget it. What do you girls want?" Nero inwardly groaned at how easily the older man gave up trying to explain the situation.

"I got a job I need you to do." Lady stated, looking fed up with the idiocy. She handed Dante a piece of paper. "Here's the info."

Dante skimmed the paper and he frowned at what he read. "Why do I have to do it? You got Trish with you right here."

"Because we're going shopping!" Trish declared happily, her eyes twinkling with a secret delight. "And we love giving you the dirty work."

"Give me a break you two! I'll never get out of debt if you guys keep using my credit!" The older man practically whined at them.

"Your new partner can help you out." Lady said almost accusingly and she turned on her heels to exit the room. Over her shoulder, she dismissively added, "The pay is good, so I suggest you better get started."

"See you boys later." Trish winked at Nero before following her friend out.

Once the two were finally gone, Dante heaved a sigh. "There goes my money..." He looked down at Nero and smiled crookedly. "Well kid, care to get out of bed and tag along?"

* * *

The two followed Lady's advice and immediately set out to do the job. Their mission took them to a mansion located on the outskirts of Capulet. Dante had given Nero a brief synopsis of their agenda during the car ride: kill every last demon.

_How informative. _Nero was actually fine with it; it was straight and to the point.

Dante gave a low whistle at the size of the estate; the grounds by themselves were huge, boasting a variety of beautifully catered flower gardens from the iron gates to the marbled steps beneath the mansions elegantly carved mahogany double doors. The mansion itself was settled nicely within thick woods, isolated from the hustle and bustle of the city. Topping it all off was a finely detailed Mermaid water fountain centered on the giant well-groomed lawn. Yet no matter how appealing the outside seemed, it belied the happenings that occurred secretly inside the mansion. Nero imagined the one who owned the fancy estate was some kind of unfortunate rich snob that got a little too bored. Why else would they be called there to exterminate demons?

On their way to the entrance, Dante plucked a red rose from a bush and proffered it to Nero, who simply smacked it out of the older man's hand in annoyance. The older man feigned hurt as Nero continued past him. The job was more important and Nero wasn't one to fool around during work.

Together, Dante and Nero entered the mansion. It was eerily quiet as they surveyed the sounding area; all the curtains were pulled closed and the only light source came from a chandelier, so it was fairly dim. The two slowly advanced deeper inside, going toward a grand staircase that led to the upper floors; Nero was already picking up multiple spikes in demonic energy, his Devil Bringer flaring a blue hue, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact locations- there were too many that it felt like they were in constant motion. As if they were toying with him.

The tense disquiet was shattered by a high pitched screech and the doors behind the hunters were slammed shut. Before Nero or Dante could look to see what had closed them, the chandelier came crashing down and trapped the two in total darkness. For a moment, Nero panicked as he recalled the yawning black void of his dream, but then he willed himself to stay in control of his emotions. Soon, Nero's eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and he readied his Blue Rose.

"Looks like it's time to get started." Dante said. He whipped out his favored twin pistols, Ebony and Ivory, and twirled them expertly in his hands.

A chorus of giggles erupted around the room; it was the laughter of numerous women; a cascade of sounds to the hunters' ears. Something grazed past Nero and he fired a few rounds at it, but its movements were swift and agile, able to evade his bullets with ease. Dante and Nero's eyes trailed after the flying figure as it perched atop a support beam in the ceiling.

"You got to be kidding me." Nero said in disbelief, not liking what he saw.

"It was in the job description." Dante had his pistols locked and loaded, looking like he was itching to have some fun.

"Heh." After reloading his gun, Nero trained his aim on the group of succubi that nested on the beams above. The succubi just crooned and tauntingly blew kisses at the hunters. "Kill every last demon."

Simultaneously, the two started to shoot up at the group and the demonesses rapidly disperse from their nesting area. A few shrieked in pain when their wings got punctured with bullet holes, and they plummeted from the high ceiling straight down to the floor, dying on impact. Yet no matter how many the hunters downed, there were still more. The succubi circled around Nero and Dante, their giggles trilling out in a predatory cacophony.

One swooped down toward Nero – the succubus' violet eyes were alight with excitement. The demoness' screech pealed through the air as its elongated nails reached out to grab him. Nero raised his gun in time and, with deft accuracy, blasted one of its arms off. The injured succubus screamed in agony as it tumbled to the ground, its blood smearing the smooth surface of the floors. Before Nero could finish off the demoness, another one came up behind him and latched onto his hood, yanking him up forcefully into the air. Nero dropped his revolver in surprise, his breathing constricted from his own jacket as the succubus flew higher.

Dante, who had been busy wooing some of the succubi while he fought them, stopped to pull the trigger on the succubus carrying Nero. A bullet pierces through the succubus' forehead and lodged itself inside its skull. The dead succubus released its hold on Nero as it gracelessly dropped to the floor with a thud while Nero landed on his feet, coughing for air.

"What's the matter, kid? Got too cocky?"

Nero knew it was a jibe directed at him for taking away Dante's pizza. He flipped the older man off, picked up his fallen gun, and returned to shooting down the remaining demonesses.

Meanwhile, Dante returned to ogling a succubus nearby, watching its full breasts bounce with every flap of its leathery wings. With his pistols still in hand, Dante created the shape of an hour glass in the air as he admired the voluptuous curves of the demoness.

Then the very chest he was staring at had burst in a shower of gore, clumps of flesh flying outward. Dante back-stepped away to avoid the mess as it splashed onto the floor in front of his boots. Standing behind the fallen succubus was Nero – a trail of smoke rising from the barrel of his revolver.

Nero noticed the slight pout on the older man's face. "Did I interrupt something?" He gave a smug little grin as Dante's frown grew bigger.

By now, only a few of the succubi still remained and Nero scanned around for the one that he didn't quite finish off. None of the demonesses in the area had a missing arm. Then Nero noticed an obvious trail of blood leading to a door. As he made his way out, Nero gunned down another succubus and left, leaving the rest for Dante.

Cautiously, Nero went into the next room – his Blue Rose at the ready. A sliver of daylight slipped through the velvet curtains, allowing Nero to see his surroundings in greater detail. It looked like he was in a study room; bookshelves lined the wall from floor to ceiling and paper was scattered across cluttered tabletops. Nero looked down and followed the blood droplets further in. As Nero neared the back of the room, a soft hiccupping crying could be heard.

Huddled in the corner, cradling the bleeding stub of what was once an arm was Kyrie. Nero froze in place when he saw her, confusion slowly creeping in. She looked up at Nero and her breathing speeds into shallow pants; her eyes widened in terror as they started to moisten with tears.

"wh-Why did you hurt me...?" Her voice quivered.

Nero's throat suddenly became dry, and the revolver he had held steadily in his hand was now trembling in hesitation; he knew it was just the succubus' illusion, but he couldn't say anything – he couldn't think. The events of his dream were coming back in full force, and for him to see his nightmare this close to reality made something crack within.

"Please..." She choked out, crawling towards Nero on her knees; her bloodied hand reached up to clutch at his jacket. "Don't kill me..."

Her last few words sent a jolt through Nero and he dropped his gun, falling to his knees as he felt the beginning of a torrential storm brewing inside him.

With a whimper, she wrapped her one arm around Nero, who remained stoic in the embrace.

"Do you love me?" She asked, peering up into his face. But Nero doesn't really see her; his eyes were distant as his vision overlapped with his memories of Kyrie.

With quivering arms, Nero finally returned the embrace, feeling the tears sting behind his eyes as he gently stroked her hair. A soft sigh breezed against the skin of Nero's neck and her arm tightened around his shoulders. When Nero closed his eyes, he could feel the fluttering of her heartbeat against his chest.

"You're not Kyrie." And Nero snapped its neck; its body went slack in his arms. An instant and mercifully painless death. To Nero's relief, the succubus returned to its original form and he laid it down on the floor. Nero's hand was shaking as he picked up his revolver again for the second time that day. He was losing focus; he can't concentrate. In silent rage, he grabbed a chair and hurled it toward one of the bookshelves, smashing both the shelves and chair into splinters – its books tumbling down with the wreckage.

Only a fraction of his anger was lifted from his outburst, but he was wasting time now and quickly exited the room. Back where he last left Dante, Nero saw the corpse of succubi strewn about the damaged floor but there was no sign of the older man. He glanced over to the grand staircase and spotted evidence of a fight leading upstairs. In addition, Nero also heard scuffling coming from the floor above and he swiftly ascended the steps to offer any assistance.

The sounds have stopped, but there was light coming from a room at the end of a hallway – its double doors opened wide. From where Nero stood, he could see someone flipping through the pages of a book. After reaching the doorway, Nero holstered his Blue Rose and waited quietly for the older man to finish.

Dante glanced up from what he's reading and gave Nero a smirk. "Enjoy your little one-on-one?"

Nero didn't respond.

Unperturbed by Nero's silence, Dante stepped over the dead succubus that lay at his feet and tossed the book in his hand over to him. Nero caught it and studied the cover, but he couldn't even read the title; the letters were completely illegible.

"This guy right here..." Dante directed Nero's attention to what was behind him. "...used that summoning tome, hoping he'd get laid with one of the girls. Talk about sad."

On the king sized bed was the body of a mutilated man; his eyes were gouged out, his torso lacerated with claw marks, and even his genitals were missing. Blood drenched his entire body, more so at his lower half, and the silken white sheets were stained a deep crimson.

Dante noticed Nero's eyes were lingering on the man's missing appendage. "One of them must have eaten it. You didn't kiss one now, did you, kid?"

"We're done here." Nero had lost his patience with the older man and he just wanted to get out of the place. Now. He couldn't stand another minute around the succubi. "These things should rot in hell."

"I'd like to see Trish's face when she hears that she's not your type." Dante chuckled.

* * *

On the drive home, Nero couldn't stop seeing Kyrie crying inside his mind; his whole body was tense, clawed hand clenching and unclenching in agitation. He remembered the fluid motion, the sharp crack, the dying wisp of a breath – it was all just an illusion. Nero had already known it was nothing but a trick, yet deep inside, it hurt him.

From beside him, Nero saw Dante's lips moving, but he didn't hear what the older man says. Everything sounded muted to him; the passing scenery a complete blur.

"Kid." Dante's hand on his shoulder broke Nero from his trance.

"_What._" Nero tried to suppress his growing anger, but some of it leaked through in his curt reply. "Sorry... I didn't mean-..."

Dante looked at him puzzled, his eyebrow raised in question. "You okay there? You've been out of it since we left. Don't tell me you really did kiss-"

"No! ... No, I'm fine... a little tired." Nero sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He actually didn't want to go to sleep, for fear of having another nightmare. Nero was mentally, and now physically, drained.

"Don't you dare take a nap on my nice, clean bed with all that blood on you." Dante joked.

"Wasn't planning to." The stench of death seemed to cling onto Nero, never wanting him to forget.

* * *

Nero was there again. It was pitch black. This time he's not running- this time he's still. Motionless. Something weighed heavily in his clawed hand. The metallic smell of copper tinged the air, filling his lungs as he breathed it in deeply. Nero lifted the weight up high- higher- until he felt warmth trickling down the length of his arm in rivulets.

Blood.

"s-Stop..." The thing in his hand pleaded to him – its voice inaudible. "Let me... go..."

It was futile. Nero didn't comply. Instead, he tightened his grip around what felt to be a neck. Every ounce of his being was begging him to keep squeezing the life out of it as a pair of hands feebly tried to pry free from his grip. It was dark and all Nero could hear was the sound of someone desperately struggling to breathe. Soon, they stopped fighting him, their hands falling away from his arm in defeat. Silence. He still didn't relinquish his hold, but he did lower his arm. Nero couldn't see the glow of his Devil Bringer and he indistinctly knew that there is only one time it would ever stop glowing.

From the void, a soft, lilting voice started singing in the darkness. Even though Nero's mind was fogged with bloodlust, he could still tell that it was a hymn sung during his childhood. It didn't take long for Nero to figure out that the singing came from beneath him – clutched tightly in his claws. Yet Nero could not feel any vibrations coming from the throat he brutally held on to.

Growling, Nero violently shook the thing, trying to stop the damned voice from singing. _Shut up! ShutupShutupSHUTUP! _Nero dug his claws into the flesh and ripped out its throat, wishing he could see the carnage.

But the singing didn't stop; the disembodied voice had only grown louder.

Suddenly, something latches onto Nero and it felt like hands. As he tried to shake off whatever held onto him, the voice slowly became distorted, turning into nothing but gurgling sounds. The feeling of hands groped over him, pulling and tugging itself higher onto Nero's body; its wet gurgles were coming closer, louder, until Nero realized the gruesome noise was directly in his ear.

"...Nero..." Kyrie whispered. Her voice was crystal clear.

* * *

Nero jolted awake in bed. He stared unblinkingly at the ceiling for a long time. It was still night; and he felt an ache like he had ran a non-stop marathon.

_Another dream... _He exhaled a breath he never knew he was holding and pressed a hand to his face in exhaustion. The nightmares – they haunted him. He didn't know why he kept dreaming these things, but he'd never hurt Kyrie. _Never._

After deciding that he can't go back to sleep, Nero pulled the covers off and got out of bed. He really felt like he needed a distraction at that moment; something – _anything – t_o get his mind off of her.

While Nero was heading toward the bathroom, he noticed the office lights were out and saw no sign of Dante. The older man was neither lounging at the desk nor sleeping on the couch. But Nero couldn't care less. In fact, it was preferred. He didn't want Dante hovering over him like last time. It was downright weird; and with the mood that he was currently in, Nero was pretty sure things would turn real ugly – real fast.

Flicking on the bathroom lights, Nero trudged toward the sink and turned the faucet on. He splashed cold water onto his face, trying to wash off the weariness he felt, and ran his clawed hand through his hair to brush away his damp bangs. He looked up into the mirror and studied himself. Nero could see the obvious dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes; his skin pallid from the lack of proper sleep. He knew he looked like shit – felt like shit too, but he didn't want any more sleep.

He didn't want to go _there _again. He didn't want to see – or worse, _do_ the things he did in his nightmares. But when Nero looked at the reflection of his Devil Bringer in the mirror, his eyes hardened and he felt a sudden surge of anger welling up inside him.

_Demon._

Nero remembered now. It was this arm – this **thing** – that made him lose everything he had cherished. His home, his family, his life. _No! I'm not like them. I'm not!_ And he had repeatedly told himself over and over until he started to see red. In his blind rage, Nero stormed out of the bathroom and out the doors of Devil May Cry. Tonight, he was going on an impromptu demon hunt.

* * *

Dante was down in the basement, sifting through some of his old trophies from decades past. He wanted to clear out the place, but he always kept getting sidetracked from seeing things he'd long forgotten.

"Ha!" He had just found his most prized treasure; it was a magazine and on the cover was his friend, Lady. "Now what are you doing down here..." He was tempted to read through it again, but stuffed the magazine inside his jacket for later.

In actuality, he was down there with all the dirt and dust because he wanted to give Nero his own room and be able to finally relax. He knew the kid had plans to move out once he collected enough money to sustain himself, but Dante noticed that something was wrong and wanted to keep a close eye on him. Ever since Nero entered his office, Dante could tell there were things that the kid concealed from him. He just didn't want to stick his nose into someone else's private life and kept silent for Nero's sake. Of course, he had constantly tried to make jokes, hoping it would lighten the gloomy mood. And it had worked for a bit, but the stick up the kid's ass was lodged in too deep that he couldn't take a joke anymore.

Before Dante's mind could wander further into unknown territory about Nero, he heard the loud slam of a door. Curious about what the noise could be this late into the night, Dante packed one last dusty book into a box, closed it, and pushed the box aside to deal with later; he then proceeded up the stairs to see if anyone came in.

But there was no one inside the office. All of the lights on the first floor were still off and when Dante looked up toward the balcony on the second floor, he saw that only the bathroom lights were left on. Climbing the stairs, he saw that the bathroom was empty and the door leading to his bedroom was slightly ajar. He didn't need to go into the room to tell that Nero was gone, but he went inside anyways. Dante noticed that Nero didn't take any of his belongings. In fact, even his Blue Rose and Red queen were left behind.

It was rare for Dante to feel worried about anything, yet right now, he was very close to feeling it.

_The kid better not have any crazy ideas. _Then he left the office, hoping that Nero was just going to the store or something. However, his intuition told him that it wasn't going to be the case because Nero seemed to have left in a hurry. If he was lucky enough, which is never, then he may be able to catch up to the kid. Dante knew that Nero usually had a hard time navigating Capulet, so by now, he shouldn't have gotten too far.

The streets were dead quiet at this time of the night. The moon was bright and full; not a single star shone through its illumination. Dante inwardly groaned. Already, his luck wasn't looking so good. In his vast experience as a demon hunter, Dante knew that the full moon attracted demons out into the night, whipping them into a crazed frenzy. Now that he was out in the open, he could feel the effects the moon was having on him. No doubt the kid was also affected, not even knowing his mindset was being influenced by the full moon. It was even worse because Nero wasn't exactly stable right now. Who knew what the kid kept bottled up inside himself?

A hysterical cackle suddenly broke the silence. It sounded close by.

"Oooooh! You think you're some hot shot?!" Shouted a shrill voice. "But look at you! You're like me!" Another round of maddening cackles followed.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

That was Nero's voice. Dante sped up his steps, following the commotion to a public park, and caught sight of a lone figure – well, two. Nero was crouched over a body, violently ripping away at whatever was beneath him with a bestial ferocity.

So much for hoping that Nero went to the store.

The body was nothing but a bleeding carcass now, torn to shreds by Nero's demonic claws. And the kid was still going at it – unrelentingly. Dante decided that now was a good time to step in.

"You can stop." Dante gripped Nero's shoulder firmly and the younger man jerked to a halt. His Devil Bringer poised in mid-air for another strike, heavily dripping a black substance. Nero turned his head slightly to look at the gloved hand on his shoulder, an enigmatic glint in his narrowed eyes.

******"Kid, are you-" But Dante didn't get to finish his sentence for Nero had twisted himself out of Dante's grip and plunged his demonic claws straight into Dante with a sickening squelch. Blood splattered over both of them, and Dante saw the look of pure pleasure on Nero's face as his claws sank deeper into his rib cage, forcing through all the flesh and bone. Grunting in pain, Dante grabbed hold of Nero's arm and forcefully pulled it free from his chest, feeling the gush of his life blood streaming down his torso.

"Snap out of it!" And he head-butted Nero, stunning the kid for a moment before he placed some distance between them.

Nero glared maniacally back at Dante – his irises were glowing a bright red. He brought his gory claws up to his lips and lapped at the freshly coated blood. Dante couldn't take his eyes off the suggestive licking, watching as Nero's tongue became slick with crimson.

_That's... kinda hot..._

"Alright, kid." Dante started cracking his knuckles; his healing factor was already kicking in and began repairing the gaping wound on his chest. The full moon definitely made him feel excited tonight. "You wanna play? Fine. Let's do this."

Then Nero grinned widely at Dante; his canines gleamed devilishly in the moonlight. Dante could only imagine the kind of thoughts that must be running through the kid's head because with each passing second, his demonic side was becoming more apparent – possibly close to activating his Devil Trigger.

With a feral snarl, Nero lunged at Dante, who practically twirled away with finesse. Rebounding swiftly, Nero swiped at Dante with his claws but he missed again.

"Too slow.~" Dante sing-songed. He wasn't planning on landing any hits on Nero. The kid was angry as it is, and if he Devil Triggered then it would be a pain in the ass to deal with.

Nero's movements were sluggish and clumsy as he kept trying to catch Dante; his demonic influenced mind was hampering his hand-eye-coordination.

It was like a game of Cat-and-Mouse, only Nero was the real mouse. Dante was leading him away from the park, back toward Devil May Cry, and hoped he could tire the kid out at the same time. They ran through the city streets, the moon lighting their way. Nero was damaging anything that got in his path with reckless abandon while Dante was evading, dodging, and occasionally letting Nero get close enough on purpose to spur the kid into moving forward after him.

_Almost there…_

Dante was waiting for Nero to drop his guard, the perfect opportunity, before he decided to pounce. And when they reached back to the front of his office, Dante wasted no time when he saw the opening. He tackled Nero to the ground, knocking the wind out of the younger man and he struggled fiercely against Dante. He was sprawled on the asphalt and his legs started to kick out wildly at him, but Dante straddled Nero's thighs and pinned his thrashing arms down by his sides. Nero bucked underneath, growling angrily as he attempted to throw Dante off of him. Under any other circumstance, Dante wouldn't really find a situation like this...enticing, but it was the full moon clouding his judgment. Dante controlled his thoughts and focused on trying to calm the kid down. He leaned into Nero's glowering face as he tried to make eye contact.

"Nero."

Hearing his name, the kid turned his head slightly in response; he was still breathing hard, his arms trying to tug free as his legs scraped against the concrete.

"Look at me."

Vermillion red met crystalline blue.

His breath hitched in wonder as he stared down at Nero beneath, who was now looking up at him in confusion.

"Dante...?"

The red glow in the kid's eyes were dimming, only tinting his normally azure irises around the rims. His eyes trailed downwards – to the torn and bloodied front of Dante's chest. "I did that." He knitted his brow as he looked to be piecing together thoughts inside his head.

"Calmed down now?" Dante wasn't releasing the kid until otherwise. Blood still caked Nero's face as he nodded his head. He looked remorseful, avoiding Dante's scrutinizing gaze.

Dante climbed off of Nero and stood up. After he brushed himself off, he offered Nero a hand. Nero sheepishly took the proffered hand and pulled himself up to his feet.

"Get inside." It was a command. They needed to get out of the moonlight and Dante was determined to get some answers – he deserved that much at least. He knew something bothered the kid, but he didn't think Nero was under stress this extreme. Dante always trusted his instincts, so wanting to keep an eye on the kid was a good call.

Once inside, Dante closed the doors and locked it. He turned around to see Nero looking withdrawn; his head was down, shoulders hunched, and lips pursed in unease. Dante dropped himself onto the couch, releasing a sigh as he sank into the cushions. He was waiting.

"Sorry."

Not really what Dante wanted to hear. He didn't care that Nero impaled him with his Devil Bringer. No. He wanted to hear the truth. So he smiled up at Nero. He didn't say anything – just waited; his lazy smile plastered on his face.

The kid was starting to feel the pressure now when his eyes went downcast as he started rubbing the back of his neck. "I…" Nero paused, gathering his thoughts; his feet shuffled from one foot to the other. He looked to be struggling with what he wanted to say. Like he couldn't get it out.

Dante softened at this – but only a little. "It's alright. I'm not mad." He said, hoping it would help.

"I hurt you." Nero's voice held a slight shake, but Dante thought it was just nervousness.

"It only stung a bit." Dante casually picked at the ripped fabric of his undershirt. He was going to need a new one. _And send my jacket to a tailor._

"I lost control. And I- if it was Kyrie, I'd have-…"

Now _that _got Dante's attention. So did Kyrie have something to do with why the kid left Fortuna?

"Do you want to go back?" Dante prodded, carefully watching his words.

"What?" Nero laughed – not a hint of mirth in his laughter. "Look at me!" He opened his arms to gesture at himself. "I got mad. Went berserk. And now I'm covered in blood! Worse part is – I liked it. I _fucking_ liked it. You think I can go back there like this? **I'm a demon.**" He finished ruefully, voice faltering on the last line.

It was the most Dante had ever heard Nero talk and he understood now. He really did, but anything he'd say would only sound like hollow advice. Dante didn't need to question any further. Besides, the kid had suffered enough and now he knew why. Maybe it's about time he told Nero what he had planned for him in the basement.

"Listen..."

* * *

Aurthurs on craek: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU- I _also_ prefer long chapters too! But when I'M the one writing them, i'm like, "My brain now broked." It's long because I wanted to show a buildup of Nero's stress. Hope I did it right. IT AIN'T MEAN I MIGHT BE ABLE TO CHUG OUT ANOTHER LONG CHAPTER. But writing so far has been huge fun. I'm a simple person haha and you guys get to enjoy reading what I enjoy writing. HAPPY CYCLE. lol Hopefully.

And to add: Sorry if I'm vague about character thoughts/actions. I want readers to interpret things their own way. At least... I think I'm being vague. So I like it when readers speculate (you know who you are). Also, my ps3 froze on me while I was writing out the Kreepy Kyrie part. With the gurgles. o_o...

tl;dr

Writings fun- I wrote another story. Iori/Kyo. Drawing is fun too. Nero was the first to "get it in." **LUL.**


	5. Chapter 4: Promise

**Disclaimer**: I do not own DMC.

**Author's Note**: Ima keep my chitchat short. I liek eet wen things git psycho logical, yet I know my writing style is sucky. I'm late? Yeah i was. SORRY 'BOUT DAT! Tight schedule, joined a second club, preorder of FFX coming, time between updates will lengthen, feedback appreciated?

* * *

Chapter 4: Promise

"Listen..." Dante started, "Go get yourself cleaned up. We'll talk later alright?"

Nero looked down at himself. His jacket was drenched in... He didn't want to think about it. Without saying another word, Nero went up the stairs and locked himself in the bathroom; one by one he peeled off his clothes, making his way to the ceramic tub. He ran the faucet on and waited for the water to warm up.

His face felt tight... and dry. He rubbed at his cheeks, feeling the skin flake off. But it wasn't his skin. In his palm were crusted bits of blood.

Nero felt sick with himself.

He couldn't believe he had actually done the things he did. He remembered storming out of the office, looking for a fight, and he didn't have to look far; Capulet was a dangerous city at night. So when he found the fight he was looking for, a scapegoat to vent his frustrations on, he had completely lost it. He could still feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins when he held the demon down, ripping off its face as the damn thing kept laughing at him – mocking him – and that was when he blacked out. The only thing he remembered most vividly was when he – _When Dante... _His Devil Bringer twitched in response to the memory. It was so vivid that Nero swore he could taste the blood on his tongue. Anything after that moment – after plunging his claws straight through Dante – Nero couldn't recall; he just knew that he's never enjoyed anything like it.

Trembling, Nero didn't know whether it's from the chilly air or the horrific event, he quickly got inside the tub and turned on the shower. A hot spray washed over him and Nero vigorously rubbed the sickly substance off his face, feeling it become slick over his skin. His stomach coiled with disgust as the water at his feet spiraled down the drain; the dark red was gradually diluting to a pinkish color as it washed off.

A choked sob forced itself out and Nero didn't bother to restrain himself for once. He cried. He cried for the death of his best friend, for the girl he cared about, for being abnormal, and for losing the little humanity he had left in him. Like a festering wound, everything he had kept bottled inside since the savior incident, trivial or significant, had grown more painful – to the point of breakage. He let it all out. No one could see him in this saddened state anyways and he was grateful Dante gave him some time for himself. It almost felt as if the older man had known.

Nero remained under the cleansing spray for a while, the steam filling up the small bathroom, until his cries died down. So as he forcefully smothered the last of his grief, he felt exactly like what Dante always called him, a kid, and he wondered if Dante ever had to cry.

The faucet handle squeaked closed as he turned off the shower and stepped out. Nero grabbed a towel hanging from its rack; he dried himself off, wrapped the towel around his waist, and walked over to the mirror. He wiped away the misted surface and examined his reflection once again. His deep blue eyes stared back at him; they were still bloodshot with dark circles beneath, but this time, even though he still looked like a miserable son-of-a-bitch, he strangely felt more alert, calmer. He picked his soiled clothes off the tiled floor and left the bathroom.

He chanced a glance beyond the balcony that overlooked the first floor and saw Dante still resting on the couch. He hoped the old man's keen hearing didn't pick up his pathetic crying. While he kept his head down, Nero hurried to his temporary room and shut the door quietly behind him once he was inside.

Nero tossed his blood-soaked clothes aside, missing the laundry basket in the corner, and went over to where his backpack was beside table drawer. He unzipped his bag and started rummaging inside. He noticed with disdain that he was running short of clothes. Since he had packed light, all he had left was a pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt.

As he pulled out his last remaining set of clean clothes, Nero heard the distinct sound of the stairs creaking. Dante was coming up. Nero hastily dressed himself, yet the sound of footsteps continued on past the bedroom and into the bathroom next door. A few minutes later, the shower was turned on.

Dante had told him that they were going to talk later, but Nero felt the urge to make a run for it. Now was his chance to leave while Dante was showering. So he began packing away his things, gathering what little he had brought with him from Fortuna, and stuffed them all into his one backpack. Nero knew he was just running away again, but he didn't want a repeat of tonight's incident. He had always known that he was nothing but a burden since the day he was born – left on the door steps of Credo and Kyrie's home; abandoned by his own parents, Nero was an unwanted child. It wasn't hard to imagine that he's also been a burden to the older man, but Dante was just too nice to say anything.

_He probably wants me gone now._

Nero paused in the midst of his packing to stare out the window. It was opened wide, a slight chill breezing in, and he could see the moon beginning its slow descent in the darkened navy sky; the skies were clear with no clouds obstructing the moon's silver-white luminance. A strange tingling sensation crept up his body making him shiver in the cool draft, goose-bumps forming along the length of his arm. While he was examining his arm wondering why he felt the weird sensation, Nero noticed a strip of fabric snagged between the scales of his Devil Bringer. He pulled it out and realized that it was a piece of Dante's trench coat; it was physical proof that he injured the older man. He regarded the pitiful sight of it in his hands silently feeling dejected. Pretty soon, he'll be kicked out. He's already overstayed his welcome, hadn't he? Not to mention his ungrateful display of gratitude.

As he enclosed his fingers around the torn cloth, Nero thought back on his fleeting time at the office; he wished he didn't have to leave. Here at Devil May Cry, demon hunting with Dante, Nero felt-... It was the closest place where Nero felt like he belonged. Dante was another half demon like him. He had never enjoyed working with others; he had always preferred to go solo on missions. Yet being around the older man... had been fun. Even his times growing up with Credo had never felt like the few hunts he had gone on with Dante. But now he had to go and ruin that too.

Nero stood in front of the open window, holding the little piece of proof in his hand, and was struck with indecision. Should he run and try to eke out a living in solitude or stay and wait for Dante to choose for him. Nero couldn't believe that he was having such a difficult time when he knew what the obvious choice was; the self-sufficient choice he usually picked without a second thought. But the prospect of being alone in the world caused him to hesitate in his decision.

Where had his sense of pride gone?

The sound of the shower ceased. Nero's time to make a decision was running out.

Run? Or stay?

Solitude? Or dependency?

Neither seemed appealing to Nero.

The pitter-patters of footsteps were approaching the bedroom, so Nero pocketed the torn fabric into his jeans and faced the door.

In came Dante, fresh out of the shower, clad in only his tight red denim. The older man was still drying his hair with his towel as he entered and Nero couldn't help but notice how Dante's muscles rippled with every movement of his arms, accentuated with water droplets that dripped from his silver locks and cascaded down his well-built torso. Nero's eyes inevitably followed the droplets' movement down to the hem of his unbuttoned jeans and he suddenly felt self-conscious about his own body, wondering if he would ever be as defined as the older man's.

_Not like it matters. I won't see him again. _Even if there was no scar on his chest and nothing but a pink color where the wound should be, Nero didn't forget about what he did to Dante. He looked away, choosing to stare back out the window; the full moon was now partially hidden behind the towering skyscrapers and lights were randomly blinking on and off at different levels of the buildings.

Dante sighed loudly in content, draping the towel around his neck. "Aren't hot showers relaxing?" Nero could feel the older man's attention fixate on him. "You're going somewhere?" No doubt Dante had noticed his meager belongings gathered at the bedside.

"Leaving." He had made his choice. Since he didn't want to hear Dante tell him to leave, he'll just do it himself. It's easier that way. Nero walked toward the bed and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. Dante stayed silent as he watched Nero collect his weapons. However, when Nero tried to walk past Dante, the older man barred the doorway using his arm.

A small flicker of hope started to grow inside Nero, but he masked it behind an annoyed scowl. "Get out of my way."

"Right after what happened? You're not going anywhere."

"I'm fine."

"Like all the other times you told me so?"

"Fuck off." Nero shoved away the arm that obstructed his path, but Dante quickly reached out and grabbed Nero by the collar of his jacket, tugging him intimidatingly close.

"Hell no." The tone in Dante's voice left no room for argument as he glared sternly at Nero. Contrary to his earlier protests, Nero didn't resist when the older man gently pushed him backwards into the room. "You're staying put, kid."

Nero scoffed at the older man, avoiding eye contact. However, a sense of relief poured into him now. It was exactly what he wanted to hear – the old man was telling him not to go. Yet he hated it. He hated the fact that he's become dependent on Dante's kindness. It felt like an empty victory to Nero. Ever since he came around Dante, he grew to rely on the old man more and more. Maybe even too much. Yet Nero knew that if he really wanted to leave, then he would have left a long time ago.

"Kid, if you want to... you can live here." Dante suddenly told him. "I won't charge you. Maybe."

There he goes again with that weird kindness. Nero didn't get it – didn't understand why Dante would keep trying to help him.

"I was planning on telling you later – after I had things set up." He continued, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. "But you were about ready to bolt."

Nero hadn't said anything as he stood there listening to Dante. He honestly expected the old man to toss him out the first chance he got, not offer him a permanent place to stay. He sure as Hell doesn't deserve it.

Nero asked the single question that should have been bugging him since day one.

"Why?"

"We make great partners." Dante joked easily; again, he was trying to lighten the mood, but Nero ignored it.

"_Why._" Nero insisted.

Dante became quiet, seeing the seriousness on Nero's face. All signs of banter left the older man's demeanor as he replied, "... You remind me of someone." It was all the older man would say, even as Nero stared at him, waiting for him to speak again. But Dante didn't and Nero had no choice but to accept his answer.

"Take your room back." Nero said, brushing past Dante. He wasn't going to leave, but he'd rather not occupy the older man's room any longer.

"Just don't run off raging during a full moon again, kid." He heard Dante call after. The old man was already back to making fun of him and Nero was grateful for the small sense of normalcy it provided, even if he didn't quite understand the joke.

Downstairs, Nero decided to leave his Red Queen on the weapon rack, placing it beside Dante's Rebellion. He admired the sleek design of the sword and remembered the time when he had used it against Dante. After an onslaught of his demonic punches, he had hurled Dante into a statue and speared Rebellion right through the older man to pin him where he collided. He thought he came out victorious, but Dante was always one step ahead. Dante simply pushed himself off from where he was stuck and extracted the blade from his chest like it was nothing. It had both irritated and astounded Nero to see that his attacks were easily being brushed off; yet it was also an unforgettable moment for him. That was the first time they had ever fought, back when he thought they were enemies. Strange that he's now living with the old man.

Nero dumped his bag onto the wooden floor near the couch and examined the worn-out furniture; black was a great camouflage for blood, but Nero could still see traces of it staining the leather. He headed into the kitchen to look for something to wipe off the couch and finds a rag by the sink. It was dirty and musty; the brown stains on it indicated that it's been used to clean up blood before. He soaked the rag under tap water, its foul smell getting stronger briefly, before he wringed it out and returned back to the couch.

The stains were already dry, so Nero had to give it a little elbow-grease to wipe them cleanly off.

"You really like to clean, kid."

Nero looked up from the couch to see Dante leaning over the balcony, peering down at him with a slight smile on his lips. He was properly dressed now and wore a black button-up shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"It was dirty." Nero replied. Then he returned to the kitchen and threw the rag into the sink. While he was washing his hands, he heard Dante coming down, the rickety stairs creaking with every step.

Nero walked back into the office to see Dante making himself comfy at his desk; feet propped up on the desktop as he lazily opened a magazine. The woman on the cover looked familiar to him, but he didn't bother to look closer and goes to sit quietly on the couch.

"My bed is free if you need to sleep." Dante offered from behind his magazine, flipping through another page.

"No thanks." Nero didn't want to go back to sleep. He was still afraid – afraid to dream again. No matter how exhausted he felt, Nero couldn't go to sleep – he just wouldn't. It was then that he wished he had never left his headphones behind; he would always resort to blasting music from his mp3 player whenever he had difficult thoughts on his mind – when he simply wanted to forget about the hard things for a little while.

He didn't realize he had been staring off into space, tapping his fingers against his knee to an unheard beat, until Dante stood at the pool table and started gathering the pool balls into a triangular rack.

"Up for a game then?" Dante asked. He finished setting up the table and was holding out one of the cue sticks for Nero.

"...Sure." It was better than sitting around doing nothing and trying to ward off sleep. So he took the cue stick from Dante and the two flip a coin to see who goes first. Dante chose heads; it landed on tails.

"Heh. Looks like you get to go first, kid."

Nero chalked the tip of his cue stick and positioned himself for the first shot. He shot the cue ball and broke apart the pool balls, scattering them in different directions across the table top. Unfortunately for him, none of the balls got pocketed and it became Dante's turn.

"If I win, you have to tell me what's on your mind." Dante casually joked as he chalked his own cue stick, but behind his playful bet, Nero could tell that the old man meant what he said.

"Then if I win..." Nero thought half-heartedly on it. "You have to buy me a can of soda."

"Really?" Dante said incredulously. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"Deal." And with that, Dante sank the first ball; a solid.

He winked at Nero and went again since he pocketed a ball. Leaning down, he balanced the cue stick by resting it between his fingers, fine tuning his accuracy with concentration; the tip of the cue stick inched toward the white ball, then back away. He was aiming for a blue solid that sat precariously at the edge of one of the corner holes. Then he made his shot; the cue ball raced to the stationary target and they collide with a clack; the blue ball ricocheted into the hole and the cue ball rolled in the opposite direction.

A cocky smirk made its way onto Dante's features as the older man moved into a new position beside Nero, nudging him aside rather tauntingly. The blatant challenge kicked Nero out of his impassiveness and he suddenly wanted to beat the smug look off the old man's face.

As if he was mocking Nero, Dante seemed to have purposely missed his next shot; the white ball rolledpast between a pair of solids and allowed for Nero to have a turn now.

"Tch." Nero moved to a better vantage point, away from Dante, and went eye level with the cue ball. The older man already had two scores above him, but Nero was confident he'll catch up and win the game. He thrust the stick forward, propelling the cue into a stripped ball. The shot landed and the striped ball bumped into a rail and bounced off. The two watched as the ball rolled, and kept rolling, gradually losing its momentum, before it fell right into the pocket at the center of the left longer side cushion – on the opposite side of where it had hit the rail.

_Easy._ Nero was showing off and he returned a smirk back at Dante.

The game continued on in that simple fashion, switching turns if the other didn't pocket their assigned object ball. Still, Dante had maintained the lead, pocketing nearly all his numbered balls. He was down to the last ball now: the black 8 ball. Nero only had two more to go, but it was Dante's turn.

"Good game, kid." Dante praised Nero. Even though his words were said without a teasing tone, Nero was still irked by the fact that he was going to lose.

But by pure unfortunate luck, Dante's hand slipped in his aim, sending the cue ball straight into a pocket without even grazing the 8 ball.

8 ball scratch. Nero won.

Nero watched Dante blink in disbelief and found the older man's dumbfounded expression to be very amusing. A small chuckle managed to escape his lips and Nero cleaed his throat in embarrassment, rubbing at his nose. To laugh in the face of an opponent's defeat was disgraceful. But still…

"I can't even win a bet against you?" Dante dropped his stick and threw his arms up in mock anger.

"Maybe you shouldn't be betting then." Nero leaned his cue stick against the side of the pool table.

"How about another game?" Dante asked, pulling out the triangular rack.

"I don't mind..." Nero sat down on the couch as Dante started collecting the pool balls from the pockets. Sunlight was slowly seeping into the office, its bright rays casting a balmy orange glow throughout the place. The warmth of the sunlight radiated onto him and Nero felt his eyelids grow heavy as his body relaxes under the cozy temperature. He heard the soft patter of someone walking away.

Unexpectedly, he vaguely recalled the piece of fabric he kept inside his pocket. He wanted to thank Dante, for not giving up on him, but all that came out of his mouth was a yawn. Sleep was coming and Nero didn't have the energy to fight it. His brow knitted in a struggled effort to keep himself from falling asleep, but his efforts were wasted.

Exhaustion finally won out and before Nero let himself drift off, he makes a promise to himself.

Soon after, he fell into a deep and blissful slumber; free of night terrors for once.

* * *

A/N: Anyone got any tips on improvement for me? I really think I'm lacking in something. I may be writing this for fun, but I want to at least make it decent and readable story. AM I NONSENSICAL? LOL

GAHHHH! PEOPLE KEEP SNEAKING UP BEHIND ME. ._.'

Note to self: Micheal Bay.


	6. Chapter 5: Say What?

Disclaimer: I do not own DMC.

Author's Note: Looks like I've been drawing for every other chapter. o: Wonder how long that'll last haha

******Denotes I have the link on my profile.

I infected my best friend with my enthusiasm for writing and now she's starting her own original story. A yaoi one. ;D Yeeauh~ She's an artist too! Maybe I'll get her (force her) to digitally color one of my drawings? Her deviant art is Sonrin! Stalk her. I do. C:

To the ones I couldn't respond via message:

Guest #1: YES! That was the kind of mistake I was bound to make. Thank you for pointing that out- I fixed it I think! I honestly haven't played the games (Oh no, right?). My limited knowledge comes from the anime and whatevers on wikia (plus lurking various forums about DMC for fun. ie: Dante vs. Bayonetta, Dante and Donte xD), so I try twice as hard to do research without... spoiling the whole original game for myself. (I got DmC but... it's not... it's- _yeah..._) and thank you for the very helpful analysis. I'll always expect mistakes from myself, but I will try to keep future blunders as minimal as possible! Thank you again and thank you for reading! c: Oh yeah... I haven't heard of foreshadowing since... 8th grade. LOL I looked up some tips on it! I did try to use it with Nero's Devil Bringer during his second dream, so when Dante found him... his DB was covered in black blood, no glow like in the dream. :B WELP! I'm no pro haha so hope I you'll bear with this n00b. c':

ef9 o shea: A dominant Dante, huh? hehe I'm totally not confident about how I show action, LIKE- LIKE "BOOM BOOM EXPLOSIONS!" as my besty puts it XD I already planned something for later on and i'm gonna try to be more descriptive with fighting scenes. Thank you for reading, you... you sadistic thang~ lol jk!

Guest #2: Dayyyuuum! ily2 haha! I know what you mean though. I got DmC only cuz it was free but... I just couldn't get into the story. Gameplay wise, it's considered solid. BUT IT AINT DANTE. IT'S F %#$ING DONTE. (I... don't like Kat. At all. Sorry to the people who do.) The original Dante was much more lovable, the new... he's just an evolved prick. I'm none too happy if all we'll see of Dante is through other games like Marvel vs. Capcom. :'c I main him so hard with Deadpool and Amaterasu. XD If only Nero was added to the roster...

Go forth, my comrades!

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Chapter 5: Say What?

There was a sweet smell around him, seemingly encasing him in warmth. And it felt familiar – felt comforting. Nero stirs awake and he squints against the soft light of the mid-day sun that streamed in through the windows. He rubs at his eyes and looks around groggily, still disoriented from waking up. He had fallen asleep on the couch – and what a _comfortable_ couch it was in all its lumpy glory.

Propping himself up on his elbows, the quilt slipping from his chest to bunch up around his abdomen, Nero notices the subtle scent of strawberries tickling his nose. He looks down at the royal blue quilt that covered him; it was the same quilt Dante used whenever he slept on the couch.

Dante must have given him this quilt while he was asleep.

_That old man..._

Nero knew he was being babied, but he had actually slept well and Dante was to thank for that; he's done a lot for him. No matter how much the older man tried to downplay it by being a jerk, he was nice – in that asshole kind of nice. Dante had even stayed up with Nero to challenge him to a game of Billiards. Nero smiles at the memory of Dante losing the bet and regrets that he didn't think of a better reward; it might have been a sight to behold to make Dante get on his knees and call him "Master" instead of the childish nickname he got stuck with.

Speaking of the old man, he wasn't in the office – or at least on the first floor. After stretching leisurely, his back arching off the leather cushions, Nero got up and steadily rose to his feet; vertigo overcame him and he focuses on his balance as he wobbles to the kitchen. He scratches his head in a half-daze, ruffling his already mussed up hair, and goes to wash up in the sink; he splashes the cool water onto his face and it fully rouses him from his lethargy. After turning off the tap, Nero braces himself against the counter and stares into the metal basin, watching the water droplets fall from his face and bangs. Despite his distorted image reflected back from the grimy, metallic surface, Nero felt level headed; he felt refreshed- at least for the most part. Who knows when he'll have to deal with his reoccurring nightmares again? But was venting it out of his system all that he needed or… was it because Dante – with his laid-back attitude and playful antics – had finally gotten through to him.

He recalls the little piece of Dante's trench coat tucked away in his jean pocket. The old man was really growing on him.

Shaking his head – droplets flying off in random directions – Nero pushes away from the sink and heads back to the office. Since he didn't see the old man around, he wonders about what to do. More than anything, he hated not having something to keep himself busy. He looks at the old-fashioned rotary phone on Dante's desk, silently wishing for it to ring.

Today felt like it was going to be a slow day and waiting around doing nothing wasn't going to make the phone miraculously ring; so Nero falls back into his habit of cleaning. When he gets paid, he's going out to buy himself some new clothes – and an mp3 player. _Yeah, with a nice pair of headphones too._

Not much cleaning was left for Nero to do since he did a thorough job of keeping Dante from littering wherever he damn well pleased. After he folded the discarded quilt neatly into a square, he decides to peruse the magazine on Dante's desk; now he got a good look at the cover and he saw that it was the dark-haired woman whom he recently met. _The lady with the sunglasses._

The strums of a guitar perks Nero's attention.

Nero looks back to the jukebox in the corner but it wasn't on. It was coming from a door by the stairs, the start of a song flowing through the open crack. Curious, he decides to go investigate. The door reveals another set of stairs leading down to the basement and it's where Nero finds the old man. He was sitting on a stack of boxes with a guitar of peculiar design in hand. Nero remains silent and listens to the catchy song; Dante's eyes were closed as his fingers on one hand moves deftly over the strings and the other hand rhythmically strums out notes. The tune he's playing was a pleasing sound to Nero's ears and he finds himself respecting Dante's skill with the stringed instrument.

******The older man leans forward, one foot tapping a beat while he slightly bobs his head, and his expression is etched in deep concentration as he loses himself to the melody he created; he's thrumming a fast-paced riff, fingers becoming a blur of motion, and he's hitting every single note as the stream of music rises into crescendo. Nero's eyes are glued to the impressive spectacle as he continues to watch; the sight of Dante utterly entrances him and his heart felt like it was strings being plucked by the skillful musician. He always had a thing for live music. However, the bittersweet memories of attending Kyrie's concerts reemerges and dampens his enjoyment.

In the midst of Dante's guitar solo, a bat flutters over to Nero, flapping around his head before Nero held up his arm for it to perch on. It gives a small squeak, lifting up and spreading its wings to the rhythm of the near-hypnotic melody. The small creature looks as if it smiled up at him, its little white fangs peeking out from its mouth innocently. Without warning, the bat bites his finger, digging its pointed teeth into his flesh and drawing blood.

"Little shit!" Nero growls at the bat in annoyance and it disappears in a puff of swirling black smoke before Nero could get his hands on the tiny creature.

"Aww... I think Nevan likes you." Dante had stopped playing and was smiling at him with laughter in his eyes.

"Who?" Nero proceeds to suck the blood off his fingertip. He catches Dante's lingering stare on his lips but thinks nothing of it, figuring it was only because he looked childish for suckling on such a tiny wound.

Dante shifts his gaze back to the guitar and pats its handle. "This is Nevan. A conniving blood-sucker, but she plays some pretty sweet notes." Almost in response, an electric spark spirals up the instrument and shocks Dante's hand. He yelps in surprise, shaking his hand to ebb the pain. "See what I mean?" he pouts at it and then gets up to place the guitar back in its stand beside a well-kept drum set.

"You learned to play the guitar?" Nero was starting to see Dante in a new light – that he wasn't just a dim-witted skirt chaser.

"Nope. I was born with the talent." To anyone else, it would've looked like the old man was just bragging, but Nero could tell he was just stating a fact – even if he still sounded like an arrogant bastard. Though Nero had to admit, he enjoyed Dante's jam session and it's been a while since he heard something other than crappy oldies tunes. The jukebox only seemed to belt out the lamest of music and not one was to his tastes.

"So what are you doing down here?" Nero asks, looking around the shoddy and cluttered basement. He thought the office was in bad shape, but he hadn't seen the state of the lower floor. Skulls of various demons lined the walls, and weapons – or so-called devil arms like Nevan – were haphazardly strewn about, some lay on the floor while others were used to keep the skulls in place. Complementing the trophy heads were draperies of giant cobwebs that clung from the wooden ceiling beams and floated like wisps in the drafty air of the basement. The only ordinary looking things down there were vials of multiple colors collecting dust on some ratty shelf. The spider-infested basement with all its morbid decor and oddities made upstairs look like a welcoming family home.

"I'm clearing out some things." Dante says as he picks up the box he had sat on. "This is going to be your room."

"Here?" Normally, Nero wasn't one to be picky, but he still didn't like the idea that he'll be sleeping in such a dank and decrepit space.

"Don't worry, kid. I'll replace the scary heads with stuffed animals."

"Ha. Ha." Nero deadpans. Guess it was better than nothing and he'll at least get some privacy – taking into consideration that the Demon skulls stayed dead. The numerous pairs of eyes unsettled him and he was reminded of how his dreams felt like; every move he made was tracked – like he was being hunted endlessly. He'll be fine, Nero tells himself, willing it to be true. "What do you want me to move?"

"Grab those potions over there- but be careful not to drop them."

Nero does as the older man told; gathering the vials into his arms, he follows Dante into another section of the basement. It wasn't all that big down here – just two areas; Nero assumes the front will be his room and the back will have every demonic trinket that Dante owned shoved inside.

"You sure everything's going to fit in here?" The further in they went, the darker it got; Nero observes the yellowed fluorescent light bulb flickering unreliably overhead. Thing looked as if it'd shut off any second.

"Ye- Hey! Watch it!"

But the warning came too late. Nero paid too much attention to the aged light bulb that one of the potions slipped from his arms. So as Nero tried to maneuver himself to catch it – legs bending, hand reaching out – another tumbles down in the confusion. The glass vials shatter on the ground, shards scattering outwards from the point of impact, and a cloud of blue billows into his face as the yellow and green liquids diffuse into each other. Surprisingly, the smoke doesn't choke him but Nero blanches at the mess he created and looks to Dante, hoping to whatever God out there that the potions weren't anything valuable.

"Kid..." Dante starts.

He swallows in nervousness as Dante puts down the box he carried and began approaching him. Slowly.

"Say something."

Was the old man going to pummel him after an apology? But he didn't really look mad at all.

"Lli yap rof ti." _Huh? Was that my-?_

Then Dante's eyes go wide and he bursts out laughing. "So they actually work!"

"Tahw era uoy gniklat tuoba?!"

"Ha! I don't know what you're saying!" The older man laughs, his incessant guffaws grating on Nero's dwindling nerves.

So it looks like these potions change the way someone speaks. Nero picks a random vial and examines the brightly glowing liquid inside. He tosses the potion in the air and catches it again. Dante stops laughing to stare at Nero playing catch with it.

"Let's not get hasty here, kid..." Dante is holding out his hands in a placating manner.

In his arms, Nero held an arsenal of weapons at his disposal and if he had the right mind to, he could chuck one at the old man and see what language he'd start yapping. He winds his arm back, gearing up for a throw.

"Alright, alright! I'll fix you! Just give me the damn potions!"

_That's better._

Nero hands over the colorful vials without any fuss and Dante stores them in one of the numerous cardboard boxes for safekeeping – _his _definition of 'organized safekeeping' it seems. Then he turns around and faces Nero with a rather amused look on his face and a feeling of apprehension settles in Nero's gut.

"You know I'll have to kiss you."

A series of processes began to affect Nero: First, his mind jars to a halt. Next, all color drains from his face when a connection mentally clicks. And once Dante's simple solution finally sank in, the heat comes back – flares back actually.

"Ouy nac ssik ym ssa!" Nero shouts in vehemence, red-faced with words spewing incoherently from his lips, but the meaning came through: No way was he allowing the old man to touch him.

"Relax, kid. I won't go past first base."

"..." Not helping. If Dante doesn't shut up, Nero swears he's going to bash the lying moron's teeth in. Dante _had_ to be lying. Goose-bumps break out all over Nero as he sees Dante closing the distance between them. He jerks backwards, Devil Bringer balling into a fist and wanting to lash out. It took a lot of effort for Nero to keep a tight reign over his emotions. But he managed. By a fraction.

"Don't be shy, _baby._" The last word was drawled out in a condescending manner.

So now he's been downgraded to an infant. He narrows his eyes at Dante, who looked to be enjoying this a little too much for Nero's comfort; his trademark smirk making him appear shamelessly unabashed. He was only an arm's length away now, and it was deep in Nero's personal bubble by his standards.

That was also as far as Dante would go because Nero firmly plants his hand over Dante's grinning face, feeling a muffled grunt reverberating against his palm, and _shoves_ the older man away with more force than was necessary. Then he turns tail and all but ran; he fled the back room, sped through his soon-to-be-bedroom, and vaulted up the stairs two steps at a time. Behind, he could hear the old man's annoying laughter resounding.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, he's greeted by the sight of Lady standing in the office.

"There you are, brat." Lady says turning her full attention on him. She wore a sleek black suit, and despite it's conservative style, the suit hugged her body at all the right curves, accentuating her trim figure. Her head turns slightly, gaze hard to discern behind her dark frames, as Dante follows Nero up the stairs.

_Brat?_ Nero didn't get much of a first impression of her, but did he do something to offend her or is she normally this abrasive with people? Whatever. Maybe she'll still help him. He starts pointing at his mouth. When that didn't get a reaction out of her, Nero gestures for her to come over to him.

She doesn't move. She just stands where she is and stares at him like he was an idiot.

"Nmad ti ydal!"

An eyebrow visibly arches from behind her glasses after she heard his gibberish.

"Don't listen to the kid, he's talking nonsense." Dante says, patting Nero's head and ruffling his hair. Nero ducks out of his touch, moving to the side to distance himself from the older man. "He dropped a couple of those potions you had me hold for you."

Lady's head tilted up in understanding, and from that angle, Nero could see her eyes glancing towards him. "So he thought I could-"

"Cure him. Yup."

"You know it'll-"

"I know. I know."

_Why _the _hell_ does the old man keep interrupting her? Did she know another way to get him back to normal?

Then they both looked to Nero.

"Sorry. You're on your own, brat." Lady shrugs her shoulders and casually strides over to Dante's desk. On it was a silver briefcase. "I'm just here to give you both your cut." She opens the briefcase and inside was a staggering amount of triple digit bills; all neatly ordered by one another and filling the whole case to the brim. Nero has never seen that much money outside of movies and for a moment, he just stares in mild shock. She grabs three wads and tosses them; one for Dante and two for Nero.

For stacks of paper, the money felt heavy to Nero. It was a _lot_ of money. Well, they did clear up a wealthy dead man's mansion. The deceased owner must have had even wealthier relatives to hire them for their 'investigation' services. He awkwardly pockets the huge sum of money, making sure it wasn't in the same pocket as the red fabric.

"What gives?" Dante complains, looking at the cash in his hand.

"I took a percentage of your pay." Lady shuts the briefcase and it clicks closed.

"But didn't you go shopping with Trish?" Dante looks her up and down, not bothering to hide his perverse glance at her covered chest. Her outfit definitely looked new, clean-cut, and expensive.

"Those potions aren't cheap, Dante."

"Augh! Then take it from the kid!"

Her rosy lips curls up into a devious smile then and Nero got the feeling that she liked toying with the older man. Yet as quickly as it came, the smile disappears and she lifts the briefcase off the desk. Nero thought she would go straight to the door, but she made a detour to the pool table. And to his surprise, there was a giant bazooka laying on the felt top. Lady hauls the massive weapon with startling ease. "I'll come back when I got another job for you."

Don't let her dainty appearance fool you, Nero tells himself as he watches the dark haired woman strut out the double doors, toting her bazooka in one hand and the briefcase in the other.

"That woman will bleed me dry." Dante mutters, but he never took his eyes off Lady's ass until the doors shut behind her.

_That's because you easily get distracted around women. – Wait._ Nero had almost forgotten about his own current problem.

"Ydal!" But the sound of revving drowned out his voice. Nero dashes to the entrance, bursting through the doors hoping he'd catch up in time, but it was too late; Lady had already sped off on her motorcycle. He was left standing in the haze of exhaust fumes.

"I'll wait until you're ready." Dante spoke up from behind him. And Nero could almost _hear_ the smile in his voice...

_Great._

Nero walks away from the office in his foul mood. Now that he got paid, he might as well go shopping himself. He'll deal with the headache later.

But it followed him.

"Take the car." Something jingles in the air.

Nero turns around in time to catch the keys thrown over to him. He looks at the car keys in his claws quizzically and then looks up at Dante.

"You'll get pick-pocketed if people see you have that much money, kid. Come on." He tilts his head in the direction of where his car was parked in front of their building.

_Well... since I'm driving..._

They got in Dante's shiny red convertible. For a man who's always in debt, Dante sure knew how to take good care of his car. Neither bothered to put on their seat belts as Nero starts up the convertible. The engine purrs into life and Nero twists in his seat to look rearwards while he reverses the vehicle. He turns the steering wheel back into neutral position and gradually steps on the gas. He hadn't driven in a while and it felt a little good to be in control of something for once. Nero had no definite destination in mind, but going on a joy ride sounded tempting even if he wasn't all that familiar with Capulet still. Of course, if he saw a clothing store, he would stop to look.

The streets weren't so busy today, but there were plenty of people milling about the sidewalks. The afternoon sun blazed overhead and it was a nice day to be out. In spite of the odor of Capulet's polluted air, Nero wanted to take a small moment for himself and enjoy the feel of wind blowing through his hair. Out of his peripheral, Nero saw Dante fumbling around with the car's radio, scanning for stations of interest. Dante passes a particular song that Nero liked the sound of. Nero opened his mouth with the start of a sentence forming on his tongue, but then remembers that he can't exactly speak. So while keeping his eyes on the road, he reaches over, moves Dante's hand aside, and uses one clawed finger to return to the previous station. He never got to enjoy his song because Dante makes a sound like he's been affronted and pushes the forward button. Nero peers at the older man out of the corners of his vision and cheekily pushes back. Dante pushes forward, their childish rivalry continuing.

Back. Forward. Ba-

A blaring horn honks at them and they cease their petty squabbling – a truck was speeding towards their way. The truck's horn frantically grew louder as it sounds out repeatedly, each honk becoming more urgent than the last. Dante braces himself. In quick succession, Nero releases the gas pedal and swerves to the right before he hastily steps on the breaks, bringing the car to a careening halt as their bodies lurches then snaps backward into their cushioned seats. Nero looks over to Dante, who in turn looks back at him. Neither wore their seat belts, so it was a miracle no one flew out. They'd still survive, but it would be a strange sight if either one of them did fly out of their seat and got up without a single scratch.

The truck had screeched to a complete stop and its gigantic tires created large skid marks on the road. Out came a stocky man who was purple with anger, his veins practically throbbing on his sweaty bald head as he stomps over to the two. He's shouting obscenities at Nero, drawing even more attention of various passers-by, many of whom had stopped to watch the scene unfold before them. Unconsciously, Nero drops his clawed hand from the steering wheel. The screaming man was at the car door now, spittle flying from his mouth as he continues to rage. Neither Dante nor Nero wanted to cause a scene as they sat in their seats peaceably. Although Nero was getting riled up from all the man's ranting, he forces himself to stay stock-still, concealing his demonic arm as best as he could by bunching it close to his side and angling his body away from the man's view.

He wishes the guy would. Just. Shut. Up.

But the short, angry man doesn't. He yanks Nero by the collar of his shirt – as if yelling wasn't enough that he needed to get physical. Nero hears Dante shift beside him from seeing the uncalled contact, but he says nothing. A crowd had gathered at the edges of the street now; a nervous tension filling the air as everyone watches from a distance. Hands went over mouths, failing to hide the movements of lips, as each began whispering furtively to one another. The more the man keeps shouting in his face, the more Nero feels his Devil Bringer growing hotter.

"Careful..." Dante says loud enough for only Nero's keen ears to catch.

The keepsake in his pocket comes to mind then and he remembers the vivid moment of claws digging into flesh. He can't let it happen again. He's made a promise – a promise to not let his inner demons take control. He must repress his violent impulses. _Repress it._

Don't hit the man. Don't hurt the man. Don't _kill_ the man.

Nero feels his demonic arm lose its searing burn, cooling off to a low hum of vibration. He's still pissed off, but he no longer felt a driving need to maim the man. He only wants beat the idiot into a senseless mess now – a slight improvement.

It took a while, but after the man lost his rage goggles, he notices that something was odd about Nero's right arm. His face goes pale as he releases his hold. Nero knew the look in the man's eyes all too well.

_'He's not human.'_

No one besides Nero, and most likely Dante, would know why the man ran back to his truck in a hurry.

Nero revs the engine and peels down the street. The radio stayed off.

* * *

After the scene, Nero had driven non-stop; not caring where he went, what turns he took, and how many times he's passed by the same street. The sun was no longer in the sky, replaced by the waning moon. The freezing wind bit at his skin and whipped his hair as he drove over the speed limits. They had just barely avoided an accident, but Nero didn't care. His grip on the steering wheel is tight, the grinding of leather audible. He needed to vent and racing recklessly around the city took the edge off his anger.

Eventually, his anger diminishes and Nero switches seats with Dante. He's abused the old man's car enough. Also, he's driven so far that he wouldn't be able to bring them back home to the office. Dante had remained quiet for the whole car ride and he was still mute as he took the wheels. Nero doesn't complain nor does he pay much attention to where the older man was driving to; his thoughts were focused inwards. The man's reaction to his demonic arm had brought back unpleasant memories of Fortuna. It was why held onto his anger for so long. But it's out of his system. For now.

Above, the stars twinkled coldly in the inky black sky and Nero feels himself withdrawing, desiring the frigid indifference of those very stars.

"I was worried you'd deck baldy back there." Dante said, breaking the silence.

Oh, but he was very close though. As an afterthought, Nero tersely grunts a response, folding his arms across his chest. Then his eyes flicker to the older man, whose attention remained fixed ahead.

"Then again, I'd think he'd deserve it." The older man turns his head briefly to give him a smile. "But you were a good boy today."

"Pfft." Nero pointedly looks away. _What's so good about scaring off a man without doing anything? Actually – a lot of things. _But that didn't mean he liked his demonic arm any better.

The car slows to a stop. They arrived at that café Nero stumbled upon when he first came to Capulet.

"Wait here, kid." Dante turns off the ignition and steps out of the car.

The bells of the entrance jingles as Dante disappears inside and Nero goes back to staring up into the sky. His mind creates imaginary lines connecting one star to another. He loved to gaze up into the night sky. It was a pastime he had enjoyed doing when he was younger. His thoughts trickle off to Kyrie. It was a pastime he enjoyed with her. The two of them had always sneaked off into the night as kids, and made doubly sure her parents and Credo remained unaware of their secret outings. They had a special spot, where the vast sky was unobstructed by the church that dominated Fortuna. It was a small clearing out by a bubbling brook. The two of them had simply sat and stargazed together; Nero remembers how Kyrie's tiny hand would point up and draw pictures for him as they laid on the soft grass. The nights he shared watching the stars with her were mild and pleasant; the air was balmy from the temperate climate while the wind carried in a refreshing breeze from the nearby stream. It had been perfect. Now he can only wish to go back to those simpler times as he sits in a car, exposed to the chilly night air.

Nero wonders if Kyrie was looking up at the sky with him. In Capulet, he couldn't see much since the bright city lights blocked out most of the feeble stars. The view is better in Fortuna, so she must be watching too if she wasn't doing her job as a songstress. Her job...

_Someone must have taken her by now..._ He's been gone for nearly a month, hasn't he? Not that long. Kyrie wouldn't find another man that easily, would she? Of course she would. She's beautiful. Nero feels his heart wrench from thinking about the 'what ifs.' He knew it's going to happen one day. His only solace is that he won't be around to witness it.

The car rocking to one side pulls Nero out of his thoughts. Dante sat down in the driver's seat; a huge smile on his face.

"Sorry it's not soda, but I'll treat you to this instead." He holds out a strawberry sundae for Nero.

The old man remembered the bet? Nero takes the sundae in his hands; glass cup cool against his fingers. Wasn't it getting a little too cold out for ice cream? But he sees Dante already digging into his own sundae. The ache in Nero's chest dulled a bit as he stares at the swirl of vanilla ice cream topped with fresh strawberries. Nero almost doesn't want to ruin it, letting it sit on his lap with the spoon untouched.

"If you don't eat that, I will." Dante half-threatened him.

Nero waves a hand dismissively at the older man and grabs the spoon, scooping out one of the strawberries. He tastes the delicate tang of the fruit, smoothed over with creamy vanilla. He liked the sweetness of it, savoring its flavor as the ice cream melted on his tongue. The two sat in silence as they ate. It was getting late into the night now; moon high in the sky. City life in Capulet never fully died down. It would come close, but there was always going to be somebody stupid enough to stay out late. And if not people, then there were plenty of demons that prowled the streets, hiding in alcoves and searching for any soul that dared to venture into the dark. Cars still passed by, but as the time grew later, civilians were rushing home. From off in the distance, a siren echoed, presumably heading towards a late-night ruckus.

The sound of metal clinking around glass made Nero look over to Dante. He finished devouring his strawberry sundae and was currently eyeing the half-eaten one in Nero's hand.

"Hn." He offers his remaining ice cream to the older man. The night was getting too cold for Nero to finish it and he was fighting off the urge to shiver. Dante greedily accepts it and the sundae had no chance in hell of surviving now. Nero watches Dante with quiet fascination, resting his head on his clawed hand. At least the old man ate something other than pizza.

Dante leans back in his seat and a sigh escapes his lips in content. After a minute or two passes, he lazily looks over at Nero who was still watching him.

"We still haven't fixed your problem, kid." His icy irises held a glint of mischief.

A frown tugs at the corners of Nero's mouth. He was hoping to avoid that topic.

"Don't look so scared." Dante sat up and was leaning towards him now. Nero doesn't know what kind of face he made, but it definitely felt very confused looking. His mind was just at a total loss right now. How did it go from eating ice cream to _this_? Why is he even getting into this kind of situation with Dante anyways? _Damn potions. Damn Lady._

"I don't bite. Much."

_I'll kill him._

The older man's hand reaches out to caress the back of Nero's neck and the dull throb in his chest pulsed into a frenzy. Yet with all the inner turmoil churning inside him, Nero was frozen in place, watching as Dante came ever closer. He's getting closer. Too close now. Nero made to move back, but the hand on his neck held him in place. A chuckle rumbles lowly through Dante's throat and his warm breath ghosts over Nero's lips. He feels a tingle shoot up his spine and heat guiltily floods into his face. The scent of strawberries filled the small space between them and in the back of Nero's panicked mind, he recognizes the sweet fragrance. Things were getting weird.

"Just close your eyes..." murmurs Dante softly; his voice laced with seductive promises as he stared into Nero's gaze with those crystal blue eyes of his.

Nero refuses.

"Do it..."

The fingers at the back of his neck traces soft patterns on his sensitive skin and the tickling sensation felt so good that Nero's eyes become hooded from his touches. Why isn't he fighting Dante? He's never let anyone but Kyrie get this close to him. Dante and his innocent-but-not ministrations were foreign to him and Nero didn't know how to react.

The air around them grew warmer despite there being no shelter from the chilling winds.

And the scent... the scent was _intoxicating_.

Nero finally succumbed to the allure and his eyes slowly slid shut. The sweet fragrance of strawberries and Dante's warm touch was all Nero registers in the darkness. Senses intensified by the loss of sight, Nero couldn't help but shiver when he felt fingers trail in a feather-light stroke from his neck to gently palm his face.

Nero wasn't ready for what came next.

Neither was he ready for the _painful_ pinch.

"The hell, old man!?" Nero growls in shocked anger, hand going up to his stinging cheek. And then it clicks.

Dante starts dying of laughter, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

He'd been lying the whole time.

Figures.

* * *

A/N: I know I'm an ass. c; But did I manage to tease anyone? No? Damnit... I also just wanted to get off the angst train for a bit. lol And sprinkle dat rainbow. Then catch the next train. Dante is slowly healing him, yes? hurrdurr. Sorry my story is so Nero-centric so far, but he's so interesting to write! Not that Dante isn't- that guy's hilarious! And even more complex behind that carefree attitude.

Feel free to point out mistakes or give an opinion! And thank you in advance! My story isn't as great (or comes near) the other amazingly detailed stories out there. D; So I'm happy this is even being read. Even happier with the reviews I got. c': And I hope my artwork looks fine. It ain't the best either but I work just as hard on those.

Thank you for reading! I'll do my best!

WHY LIFE?! WUU-EYE!?

Yab Laehcim


	7. Chapter 6: Defection

Disclaimer: I do not own DMC.

Author's Note: Sorta in-depth look into Nero's past before he left Fortuna. Going to focus on Nero's time there and what had led him to ultimately leave. Yada yada.

OH! I TOTALLY FORGOT! *highfives back* u no woo u 'R, lul and I also just wanna give a little shout out to Rebeldynasty. :D Showin' you guys some lurv~ lolol

"Even in this wicked state, I try and try to deny my wretched fate." -Anonymous

* * *

Chapter 6: Defection

Nero had sat in the corner of a bar, nursing an untouched glass of water. Kyrie was going to be performing soon and he had promised to come watch her. Tonight was one of those rare nights that he had arrived on time, so he was looking forward to seeing the angelic smile on her face when she spots him. He should be easy to find since the tables around him were empty. No one had dared to go near him because they were afraid of the demonic arm hidden under his sleeve. But Nero knew that he had never been well-regarded – even before he was cursed with the deformity; the townsfolk had labeled him a heathen for his lack of faith in their God and his fellow knights had always looked down upon him simply because he wielded a gun. Credo had stood up for him many times in the past – had tried to quell their growing animosity, but that only further strengthened their negative opinions about him. And now that Credo was gone, their scorn had grown to the point of shunning Nero for the loss of a great man. He never asked for Credo's help, but he missed his friend's guidance.

The lights in the bar dimmed. Nero looked up from his glass of water and saw Kyrie coming up to a microphone. Her eyes scanned the crowd; she was searching for him. When her soft hazel eyes landed on his, she beamed brightly. Nero acknowledged her with a lazy wave, but he was genuinely pleased. The stage she stood on wasn't really a stage; it was really a cleared area with a make-shift spotlight. The demons had ravaged Fortuna, their city nearly destroyed in the chaos and carnage, but the townsfolk had to make do with what they got and fixed what they could. This particular bar was used as a place for relaxation after a hard day's work of reparation. Kyrie served as entertainment; it was her own method of relaxing since she loved to sing and what better way to lift up weary souls than with songs sung from the heart.

Her gentle lilting voice began to fill the bar, floating to the very back where Nero sat. He loved the way she sang – how she would close her eyes when her voice rose higher and then slowly open to gaze at him as she softens down. Kyrie always made him feel special. Tonight, like every other night, she wore the necklace he had gifted her; its crystal gleamed bright pink under the spotlight. Like always, Kyrie was the visage of an angel.

While he had been enjoying Kyrie's performance, someone took a seat at the same table Nero occupied. Since many people were afraid of him, Nero found it odd that another person would want to join him. Nero glanced over, not bothering to hide his obvious distrust. The man across from him was tall with short wavy black hair. He gave Nero a quick nod before he made a tipping gesture with his hand, signaling at the bartender to send a drink his way. Two drinks, if his raised digits were anything to go by.

A few minutes later, a timid waiter came to the table holding two shot glasses and a bottle of Brandy. The strange man gave his thanks before the waiter scampered away from them; he quietly poured himself a glass, the amber liquid swirling luxuriously into the tiny cup. He had set the bottle aside for a second and downed the shot with haste, his nose wrinkling from the strong taste of alcohol. It seemed to have satisfied him as his slate grey eyes looked over to Nero and pushed the remaining shot glass his way.

"Want a drink?" He finally asked.

Nero, who kept his guard up the whole time, replied, "I don't drink." His suspicion towards the strange was man growing. He decided to cut to the chase, "What do you want?"

The strange man filled his own glass again before he responded, "I'm just here to relax." His apathetic grey stare was on Nero for a brief moment until he redirected his gaze at Kyrie on the stage. "She has a lovely voice. That girl."

"Don't get any ideas." Nero said, the undertone of a silent threat in his words.

"I wouldn't dream of it." He drank from his previously filled glass. Still, Nero felt skeptical about him. After a while of listening to Kyrie's singing, he spoke again, "You don't remember me?"

Nero's brow furrowed at the question asked. "I don't."

"I see." The strange man nodded his head slowly, thinking. "I was a friend of Credo's. Sometimes I came by your home."

Never did he recall seeing this strange man, but Nero had known that Credo used to bring home company on occasion; he just never bothered to find out who it was.

"And?"

"And I wanted to talk to you."

Nero shifted in his seat, eyes turning away from the strange man who sat opposite of him. Was he here to ask about Credo's death? He himself had only recently heard about it and it pained him to know that he should have done something to prevent it. If he could have prevented it. "I don't want to talk. Just leave me alone." Nero pushed his seat away from the table. He didn't want to hear it – the accusations.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." The strange man poured himself another shot in such a casual manner that it was becoming to annoy Nero.

"Well I don't give a damn." Nero was openly glaring at him now. But the man looked unconcerned with Nero's response.

Nero watched in heated silence as the man drank; he finished with a light sigh and set his glass back down on the table with a sharp clink. "Credo had told me… that if anything were to happen to him, then I would be the one to watch over Kyrie."

That had hit a nerve with Nero.

"I can take care of her just fine. Mind your own damn business." He snapped and he felt everyone's attention discreetly training on him; for anyone with eyes could easily see that he had become angered. In the background, Kyrie continued to sing; her voice ringing out gently as she stayed oblivious to the growing discontent of the patrons in the bar, particularly, the two in the back.

"_We _don't need your help." Nero added, grinding out the words through his teeth.

"_You_ do. Credo may have entrusted his dear sister to you, but you think I can ignore how you're affecting her?"

"I said…" Agitation was welling up within him now. He knew the man was blaming him. He was sick and tired of all the blame. "…leave me alone."

On stage, Kyrie's voice heightened, eyes closed as her hand went up to grasp at the microphone.

"I'm here to help her. And you."

"Are you deaf?!" A growl ripped through Nero's throat and he stood up out of his seat to grab the man by the scruff of his shirt. "I don't need your help. So you can go shove it."

"Nero!" Kyrie shouted as she ran towards him; the microphone toppled over from her hurried sprint and it emitted a high-pitched shrill. Nero's ears pricked with pain, but he was intent on dealing with the infuriating man in front of him.

"Let me make myself clear for your thick head." Nero intoned every syllable with malice. "Stay. The fuck. Away. From Kyrie."

Kyrie had reached the two and was tugging Nero away from the other man. "Nero, please!" She pleaded, sounding upset. "Don't start a fight!"

Nero aggressively pushed the man away, making him nearly tumble over his own seat.

"Are you sure you can take care of her?" The strange man rubbed at his neck, glaring back at Nero. "Because the way I see it, you're incompetent."

"I dare you to say that again!" With his Devil Bringer, Nero threw the table aside, knocking over their glasses and the bottle of Brandy. They all smashed loudly onto the wooden floor and the stench of alcohol filled his nose. Tension was palpable in the hushed air now. Some patrons had already fled the bar, while a few who remained gathered together in case something happens. And by something, it meant in case Nero tried to kill the man.

"Just stop it!"

Nero turned his attention to Kyrie for the first time since the argument started; her eyes were wide - frightened - as she held on to his human arm. She... did she look scared? All the anger he felt began to drain away at the realization.

"You can't help her. Not like that." The man said, but Nero wasn't looking at him anymore.

"Please…" Kyrie shook her head, eyes downcast as she denied the words of the strange man - the man who had claimed to be Credo's friend. "Please don't say things like that, Abele."

"I'm only telling the truth."

Nero felt the trembling of her hands on him.

"Kyrie...no." He leaned down over her, taking her hand in his. She was the last person he wanted to frighten, yet now here she was crying. He was ashamed of himself - he wanted to take it all back. How could he lose his temper so easily? Nero looked around the bar; looked at all the cautious eyes on them. How they all stared at him. Like he was some kind of monster. "I... I got to go."

He released Kyrie, who only tried to keep a hold of him.

"Nero...!"

Gently, Nero pried her hand off, his voice subdued with fear of scaring her. "I'll come back home. Just... wait for me there." And Nero made his way to the exit, forcing himself to ignore her quiet pleas. None of the other remaining patrons said anything as they quickly skittered out of his path. Just as he stepped through the door, he heard Kyrie crying louder followed by his name. Gritting his teeth, Nero forged ahead, not letting himself look back.

* * *

Nero had wandered around the wreckage of Fortuna, occasionally picking up large debris to clear the path for any future pedestrian that would pass by. No matter how badly the people of Fortuna treated him, Nero still wanted to do his part to help out.

He grunted as he lifted up a huge slab of concrete, the sad remains of what was once a house, and with minimal effort, he forced it to fall in the other direction off the crumbled cobblestone street. Little by little, Nero was working off his frustrated steam. He didn't know how long ago it was since he had left Kyrie back at the bar but the rising crescent moon swathed the landscape in a ghostly blue, blending the shadows with the navy sky.

The night didn't bother him. There was still enough light for him to work while he patrolled for demons at the same time. Sweat was beading on his forehead and he wiped them away sluggishly. The cool breeze that flowed through the gaps between collapsed buildings helped somewhat and the sound of small rubble skittering down from the mounds of debris was his only companion in the night. If Nero could get to the stream, then he would allow himself a moment to relax. Currently, many fallen buildings and broken statues blockaded his way and he had took it upon himself to do the task. None of the other residents would be able to clear it up as fast as he could.

Nero moved to the next heap of rubble; there was a pipe sticking out. He grabbed a hold of it and pulled the pipe free. It was a disfigured piece of metal, Nero thought as he observed the fractured end. If someone were to get hit with it then it would definitely leave a nasty gash. Tossing the worthless pipe aside, Nero used his claws to dig through the debris, throwing chunks after chunks of huge rocks and stones out of the way.

"Need help there?"

Nero looked over his shoulder at the source of the voice; a young teen stood behind him with a group of other teenagers. They seemed to be snickering amongst themselves.

"No thanks." He turned back to his task. Digging, pulling, tossing. It was a simple job. No need for help. He doesn't want any help. At all.

Then suddenly, his vision blurred and his face was violently rammed into the pile he worked on. A jagged piece of stone nicked his skin, causing a single trickle of blood to flow down from his forehead.

"I think you do." Nervous laughter sounded throughout the group.

They must have been at the bar.

"You think you're such a tough guy." The supposed leader of the group said as he ground Nero's face harder into the wreck. "But we ain't scared of you. Are we guys?"

They all replied in a chorus of agreement, getting gutsy from seeing the confidence in their leader.

"We all think you need to get out of our home. You're stinking up the place!" The group leader yanked Nero's head back by his hair, fingers pulling harshly against his scalp, to force him to look up.

"Big talk for a guy hiding behind his friends." Nero sneered at the young teen. Then he reached up with his demonic arm and seized the teen by his wrist, effectively startling him to loosen his fingers on Nero's hair. Nero spun the teenager around, slightly twisting the teen's arm behind him, and was able to elicit a scared yelp from both him and his friends. "You're messing with the wrong person." Nero spoke harshly into his ear. He let go of the arm and shoved the teenager back toward his group. "Get lost."

"Son of a bitch!" The group leader spouted in anger after he regained his footing. The group of followers all stood looking at each other, muttering for retreat, but the leader tried to rally them. "Come on! Five against one. There's no way he can take us all on!"

"b-But Elio..." One of his friends stuttered, knees shaking. "He's... he's-"

"What? Not _human_?" Nero spat venomously, his Devil Bringer flashing brightly in the dark night. The frightened teen cowered at the sight of his demonic arm. He'll always be ostracized for that one reason.

"Didn't demons kill your sister, Gian?!" The teen named Elio shouted to the frightened one. "Get revenge for her!"

"I told you. Wrong person." Enough is enough. _Should have known that this is what it was about. _Nero pointed a clawed finger at each and every one of them. "I didn't kill anyone's sister or anyone else. And for the record, I saved this goddamned town while you all hid under rocks."

"Bullshit!" Elio ran up to him again, getting in close to Nero's face, before his hands pushed roughly. He was courageous, Nero gave him that much. "Where were you when those things attacked us?! When Flora was dragged away?! Huh?! We _had_ to run!"

No matter how irrational the teenager was being, the cold truth stung Nero and he couldn't stand hearing anymore from the teen. Elio and his friends were in pain, but so was he. "…I can't save everyone." He said, his voice quieting.

"Heh. Now who's the one talking big?" And Elio's next words pierced Nero deeply. "You were too busy searching for your little girlfriend that you even let your own friend die."

Nero threw the first punch so fast that the teenager was sent reeling backwards. The whole group descended upon him, the confusion of turmoil spreading quick between them all. Nero was dodging and weaving through the crowd. Limiting himself to his human hand only, Nero knocked one poor guy square in the face, blood squirting from the teen's nostrils as Nero felt bone break beneath his knuckles. The teen with the now broken nose stumbled away, hand over his screaming face and Nero turned to the next one. But arms suddenly slipped under his and he felt hands locking themselves behind his head. Nero tried to wrangle free from the hold, his body twisted side to side in raging effort, but another teen came up and started pummeling him in his vulnerable midriff. The clobbering knocked the wind out of Nero and he was straining to regain his composure. Strike after strike the fists came, beating him ruthlessly with no mercy.

But then there was a brief pause in the assault as the attacker stopped to catch his breath. During that moment, Nero exploited the opening and managed to kick the attacker in his softer belly. So while the teen was keeled over in pain, Nero used his restrained arms to tightly squeeze the grappler's head between his forearms and bent forward, heaving the grappler off his feet, and sent the teen flying over his shoulder, straight onto the recovering attacker. The two get knocked down from the collision and now they're lying sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain. Nero turned his narrowed eyes on the teenager with the shaky knees.

"I-... I don't want revenge!" Shaky-knees-Gian fled the scene upon seeing how easily Nero overpowered his friends.

"Gian, you coward!" Elio yelled at the retreating figure. He glared at Nero, the start of a bruise visible on his jaw where he had been punched earlier. "You're filth." He spat before he charged.

Nero avoided the fist that swung out at him, snatched Elio by his arm again, and used it as leverage to swing the teen around and trip him with his feet. The teen fell forward, hands-first, onto the ground; dirt clouded up where he fell.

"Now is your chance to walk away." Nero told the teen, forcing himself to stay calm. "I really didn't want to hurt anyone, but you guys insisted."

Elio was breathing heavily in frustration, his nails raking at the dirt. Even in the faint moonlight, Nero could see the scorching anger gleaming in his dark eyes.

"I hate you..." Elio muttered under his breath. "It's your fault... that I lost her."

Why? Why does everything fall on him?

A sudden force slammed into Nero from behind and floored him.

"Hold the freak down!" He heard voices say above him. Something or someone was keeping his head pinned to the ground. As Nero struggled to free himself, his angry breathing puffed up the dirt and it made its way into his mouth and eyes. He could taste the earthy grit on his lips and every time he blinked, he felt the sting of the coarse particles as his eyes automatically teared up to flush them out.

"Show me his arm!"

Nero felt his Devil Bringer being forcefully yanked from his side. His face scraped against the dirt as he tried to see what they were doing to him.

They held his arm straightened out on the ground and Nero could see someone coming up to them carrying an object. He squinted through his dirt-ridden eyes, trying to distinguish what it was in the near darkness. Once the frail moonlight fell on the object in hand, a glint of silver trailed over the rusted outline. A pipe.

"All you demons..." Someone began. Whether it was Elio or one of the others, Nero couldn't tell who was talking; he was solely focused on the pipe that was being raised above him - silhouetted by moonlight against the night sky. "...should just die!"

Over and over again, the pipe was brought down onto Nero's arm - on the arm that was the bane of his existence. He felt no pain. It'd take a lot more than that to injure his arm. But the pain he hadn't felt from the physical abuse was more than doubled by a sense of rejection.

He had tried. Over and over, he had tried. He had tried to make friends. He had tried to believe in their God. Tried to follow Credo's footsteps. Tried to save who he could.

He had tried his best.

So why?

Why can't anyone accept him?

Strangely, his view started to become distant, distorted. As if it wasn't his arm that he saw being battered by a rusted old pipe. Nero watched on as the demonic arm grew a brighter blue with each strike. The brighter it became, the foggier his thoughts felt. Until he no longer saw the blue glow or the rusty pipe.

His eyes were squeezed shut now; his hands covered his ears too. He didn't see anything; he didn't hear anything. He didn't see the blood; he didn't hear the screams.

They weren't there, he told himself. Eyes squeezed shut. Hands covered ears.

He blocked it all out.

The screaming soon filtered out and he was somewhere quieter. All was still. All was silent. And it stayed that way. Only an occasional rupture briefly broke through his tranquility, but it was incoherent. Irrelevant. He needn't mind it.

Then he felt nothing phase into everything.

No longer were his eyes blind and his limbs restrained. His senses returned to him; pockets of navy seeped back into his eyes and Nero saw with stark clarity the dark, nearly black, fluid that pooled over his tightly clenched claws. Out of shock, Nero releases his vise-like grip and the teenager, Elio, fell to the ground like a corpse. He was still alive, but it didn't look like it would be for long. Nero could see Elio's shallow breathing from the short rise and fall of his chest. His eyes weren't playing tricks on him. Blood bubbled up from an open gash on Elio's throat - distinct claw marks visible.

Nero was horrified by what he'd done. Completely horrified.

He wanted to help the teen, but he doesn't trust his hands. And that only makes Nero hate himself even more. A young teen was dying in front of him and he can't do anything. It was even worse because he was the cause. Frantically, Nero looks around them, his tunnel vision clearing up, and saw more bodies splayed out on the ground. For a moment, Nero thought he had killed them all, but they were breathing evenly, some coughing while others rolled over to clutch at wherever they felt pain. They were badly beaten and bloody as well, but none were as bad as Elio's condition.

"f..Flo...ra..." The last word Elio uttered before he expired; his eyes stared up blankly at the night sky. There was no rise and fall of his breathing. No more words came from his mouth. Elio was still. All except for the flow of his blood that seemed to follow in Nero's direction.

Nero ran.

Like a panicked child he had ran; he ran away from the bodies, climbed above the fallen remains of homes, and tripped down the wreckage in his desperate need to get as far as possible. He kept running. Through the woods he kept on running, instinctively ripping away any branches that came in his path. Until he came upon the stream. Nero tumbled into the dark, icy waters and felt his clothes soaking up everything. His chest was heaving for air; he wasn't catching his breath – he was hyperventilating.

Nero started scrubbing furiously at his face, chaffing the skin there, then moved on to his clothes, and finally, his arms. But then he became stuck rubbing only at his Devil Bringer. There was a strange sound coming from his lips. Was he crying? Laughing? Or was he still wheezing? His sounds were abnormal to him. He couldn't make sense in the mess he had become. So he cleaned harder. The scales tore into his fingers and palm.

He had to get it off. The stench. It has to go. Why the fuck isn't it going?! The cuts from his cleaning dementia had quickly healed only for more wounds to appear anew.

His noise constant in his ears, he continued to clean.

_Why?_

* * *

Nero stood in front of the home he shared with Kyrie – his clothes drenched in water. He had been standing outside for a while because his feet wouldn't respond; he couldn't bring himself to go inside to face Kyrie. Tonight, he had killed someone. No matter how many times he had washed himself in the stream, he couldn't get the blood off. There was no tell-tale sign of red, but it _wouldn't_ come off. Nero still felt it on him, like he was unclean – like the stains were more than skin deep.

It only took one night – one mistake – to ruin the fragile peace he had tried to keep with Kyrie.

From outside, he saw a figure pacing back and forth. He could easily tell it was Kyrie behind the thin curtains. The flutter of her hair, the gentle sway of her hips, and the meek frame of her posture. She was worried.

He couldn't go inside like this. She would see all the blood.

As if she sensed his presence, Kyrie went up to the windows and pulled apart the curtains. Their eyes met and Kyrie dashed away from the window sill. A few moments later, Nero heard the click of the door opening and stepped out of the light that emanated from inside, masking himself in the shadows.

"Nero?" She called out to him, her delicate voice even sounded worried. "Nero is that you?"

"Yeah..."

"What are you doing standing there?" She moved aside and gestured at the open doorway for him, but Nero didn't move; he was rooted to his spot.

"Nero...?"

There it was. That quiver in her voice. Was she really worried? Or does she know? No. No, don't think about it. Think about the bigger problem...

"Oh my God..." Kyrie's hands hovered over her mouth. "Are you hurt?" And she ran out towards him. Her hands touched him, checked his face, his neck, his chest, and when her teary gaze lowered, pupils reflecting the captured dull glow of his Devil Bringer, Nero angled his body away from her prying touch.

"I'm filthy." Nero told her, echoing Elio's earlier words.

"It doesn't matter!" She cried out and tried to reach for his arm, but Nero stopped her and pulled her into a one-armed embrace while he hid his demonic arm behind his back. "Let me see...!" She sobbed and looked him up at him – her face contorted in agony.

He had just killed someone with it. If she touched it right now – with Elio's blood still on these very claws, then it would taint her. He knew there was blood. Because he could still smell it.

"_I'm fine._" Physically. At least he didn't lie. However, he might as well have because he was hiding a sickening secret. It had hurt him to no end when Kyrie had assumed he got injured. It was far from it. He gave her a chaste kiss on top of her forehead to calm her down. She was crying now, hands balled up into tiny fists on his damp jacket.

_'f...Flo...ra...'_

He didn't mean for any of it to happen and he felt remorseful. What would Kyrie do... if she knew the awful truth? Nero didn't want to let go of her at that moment. For a while, they just stood there – under the moon and stars. Nero was looking to the heavens, wishing that things didn't end up the way it had. Fervently, he prayed, but no "God" heard his prayers. All Nero received for an answer was the rustling of leaves in the night wind and the morose song of crickets.

He could never believe in a God anyways.

Nero felt movement against his chest. Kyrie had lightly pushed away from him. Sniffling, she said, "Let's go inside." She reached for his demonic arm again, but Nero kept it out of her grasp. There was pain in her eyes, but she acquiesced and took Nero by his human hand instead. "I'll start on dinner. You should go shower before you catch a cold." There was a fake cheer instilled in her voice as she tugged him with gentle care towards their home.

Credo's friend was right.

He can't keep doing this to Kyrie.

He didn't deserve to be forgiven.

Tonight… will be his last night.

* * *

Nero awakes. He had only meant to take a nap while he waited for his laundry to finish, but his body feels heavy now, like he hadn't slept at all. And he felt… sullen.

_It must be the stupid couch's fault._ Nero turns on his side, trying to get comfortable. Yet the old couch just creaks and groans beneath his weight. He decides to forget about trying to go back to sleep and swivels his body upright, feet touching the floor as he rests his elbows on his knees. What had he been dreaming about? He palms his eyes, rubbing the sleep out; he knows he dreamed something, but what? Nero blinks hard, mind recalling fragmented parts of a haze. He was close. Just focus a little bit harder… It's on the brink of being remembered… and…

On second thought. Maybe it's not a good idea. Nero rationalizes that the dream might have been a nightmare or something. He knows full well that he didn't want to go down that road again anytime soon. So he leans back into the couch and sees Dante's quilt folded neatly on the pool table.

Yesterday's antics hadn't escaped Nero. And Nero will be damned if he lets the old man get away unscathed. He looks over at the waste of space occupying the desk, feet propped up, hands dangling, and a magazine opened on his face. Dante had officially declared a prank war that day and Nero has every mind to pay him back double. Later.

He finds himself staring at Dante's sleeping form and then back at his demonic arm. If it wasn't for Dante's guidance, Nero wouldn't have known what to do with himself and he probably would've thrown himself off the deep by end now. He scratches the back of his head in contemplation. Is it okay for him to consider the old man as his friend? Did he deserve it?

A feeling, much like frigid fingers curling around his heart, squeezes him and Nero shakes away his pointless thoughts. The laundry would be done soon, so he stands up to go attend to his business.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was a tough one to write. D'; Still brain breakingly fun! Though I think my story wants to write itself out… Also I'm sorry for the Nero/Kyrie, but I wanted my story to be a bit realistic. He had feelings for her and I can't just write it off compleeetely. :c I could, but I can't. The inner sadist in me likes the tragedy it brings to the table. But thats just me. I'm sorry.

Feel free to point out anything! Constructive criticism welcomed!

Man, I can't work without sugar... *scratches neck* Anybody got chocolate? Suffering withdrawals here. lol


	8. Chapter 7: Shadows

**Disclaimer**: I don't own DMC.

**Author's Note**: Sorry for the late update! All you need to know is: Exams. l:c And dealt with a bit of writer/artist block for this chapter. Why must I make things difficult for myself? OH WELLS! I feel happy that I managed to do it! SORRY READERS!

******Denotes I have a picture for the scene on my profile.

* * *

Chapter 7: Shadows

"Is it in...?" Nero asked, his voice carrying a slight pant.

"Yeah... Get ready, kid." Dante warned. When he managed to get a good grip, he started pushing forward.

"h-Hey! Slow down!" Gasped Nero. "You're gonna hurt me!"

Dante snorted in laughter and accidentally pushed the mattress with more force than he intended; the kid lost his balance and fell backwards down the stairs, mattress tumbling down after him.

"DAMNIT, OLD MAN!" Nero shouted from the bottom of the stairs. He heaved the mattress off of him and glared up at Dante.

"Sorry I... went too hard." And Dante started chuckling at the joke that only he seemed to get. The kid really needed to watch his words around him because innuendos came too easily to mind.

"Tch. Now my ass hurts..." The younger grumbled in irritation as he got up to dust off his behind. Dante couldn't help but snicker some more. "The hell are you laughing at?" Nero sniped at him.

"Nothing you need to worry about."

Dante descended the stairs while Nero lifted the mattress onto his new bed frame. The basement wasn't intended to be used as a sleeping quarter and he had offered the kid his room on the second floor again, but it seemed Nero was adamant about not using it anymore. Well as long as the kid was fine with making his own living arrangements then Dante had no problems.

The walls were cleared of his trophy heads, but Nero didn't seem to mind that it was still riddled with holes from when he had hung the skulls. It was more barren down in the basement now since everything of his was shoved into the other section; boxes and chests were stored in the deeper back while some Demon Arms had been moved upstairs. Nero had actually taken a shine to Nevan despite being bitten by her and Dante almost felt flattered when he wanted to hear him play it again.

_When I find the time, I'll play another song or two to entertain the kid. _Dante thought as he watched Nero set up his new space. It was a habit he had recently started doing more often; to keep a closer eye on Nero in case there was a sudden change. He stared intently at the back of Nero's head and studied the kid. Warning signs were what he was looking for - anything that would tip him further about what played on the younger's enigmatic mind. Dante remembered the fiery spirit he used to be able to evoke out of Nero during their chance encounters in Fortuna. But now, that spirit had been dampened, leaving only anger in its wake.

"What's that you have there?" Dante asked, seeing a small blue box in the kid's hand.

Nero's hand tightened imperceptibly around the box and moved it to the front of his body where Dante couldn't see. "Just something I picked up while shopping." Nero answered flatly over his shoulder.

Dante just moved closer, trying to get a look at it. "Is it for me?"

"No."

Now that only piqued his interest more until his curiosity got the better of him and Dante moved even closer. Nero turned to face him and backed away, but he couldn't go far enough since he was hindered by the bed. So Nero settled with pointedly glaring at him, looking a lot like a cornered cat to Dante.

"Stingy." Dante pouted and feigned defeat, hoping it'll make the younger lower his guard. "You're too serious, kid."

"And you're not serious enough, old man." He quickly retorted back.

Then Dante tried to make a swipe at the box, but Nero had stayed on his toes and held his box up and away from Dante's grabby hands.

"Ohhh. I like secrets. Just a peek? I promise I won't laugh." He begged the younger, trying out his puppy dog eyes.

"I said no. And back off!" Nero had his free arm held up protectively between them to buffer him from Dante's sturdier body, but Dante managed to get a hold of the younger's arm.

Dante knew he was acting childish, but he also knew that being a nuisance often forced Nero out of his shell. The kid never knew how to take a joke sometimes and it was purely entertaining to see him get riled up by the littlest things he said and did. He would be lying to himself if he ever thought that he didn't enjoy seeing the look of frustration on Nero's face. Also, messing around with him simply gave Dante an excuse to be nearby. Kids shouldn't be scowling so much anyways.

******"Come any closer and I'll rip you a new face." Nero growled, trying to pull free from Dante's hold, but his threat was offset by his flushed cheeks. He still kept his secret box out of reach and his Devil Bringer pulsed dimly in a warning.

Dante blinked at the half-threat. He hadn't realized how close he had gotten to Nero; close enough to see the shade of pink that dusted the kid's angry face and he was suddenly reminded of that night in his car. Pushing Nero's buttons would always be a fun past time, but that night...

His thoughts trailed off to when it all began - how it started with a little white lie to see if the kid would really believe him or not. On the day he received the potions from Lady, she had informed him that they were designed to wear off within a couple of hours. So it surprised him that the kid never bothered to talk for so long. Although, Dante shouldn't have been so surprised if he considered the kid's anti-social attitude. Add that to the aftermath of their near car accident and Nero would have no incentive to talk. Dante had also stayed quiet because he could sense the foul mood emanating off the kid in waves and wanted to wait out his anger with some strawberry sundaes. However, if Nero had decided to speak instead of bottling up his feelings... and hadn't made Dante try to cheer up the kid... then maybe... maybe that moment between them would have never happened.

"Are you going senile? Give me some space!" Nero's harsh words were followed by a light shove and it brought Dante out of his internal reflection.

"Getting a little touchy there." Dante felt the tug of a smirk on his lips. "Must be something really important in that tiny box."

The subtle pink bloomed into a deeper shade. "It's just... a dumb souvenir, alright?"

"Uh huh." Dante chose to go along with whatever Nero said. He wasn't all that curious about what was inside the box; Nero was just too fun to mess with and whether or not he had meant the threat, it was always refreshing to see to the kid return to his normal self - no matter how brief it lasted. "Well, while you have fun with your new room, I'll be upstairs handling important phone calls."

"Right." Was Nero's sarcastic response, but when Dante turned to leave, he called out, "Wait."

Dante shifted his head a little to the side; he didn't bother to fully look back.

"I'm sorry." Were the words Dante heard come out from the younger's mouth. He had no clue what the sudden apology was for and suspected Nero was still suffering from his guilt-trip. With a shrug of his shoulders, Dante nonchalantly left the kid to his own devices and he went up to his office.

Back in his office, he took a seat at his usual spot, grabbing his magazine from where it laid on the desk. A close acquaintance of his was supposed to call today with a job. However, his old fashioned rotary phone remained silent. So as he sat in his seat, flipping absent-mindlessly over pages he had already read numerous times, he continued to wait for the call that never came.

It was now 5 pm. An hour late.

The only times Enzo forgot to phone him were when he was flat out drunk or distracted by... intimate company. That said, his friend Enzo never failed when it came to calling in times of need. So Dante wasn't worried at all, only a little annoyed that the prick didn't bother to call, and decided that maybe paying a visit to his friend's place sounded better. He'd been feeling cooped up lately from babysitting and was feeling especially lively at the thought of going hunting - there was nothing like some mercenary work to get the adrenaline flowing again.

Dante tossed the magazine back onto the desk and got up to stretch. He growled lowly in satisfaction, feeling his back crack and pop from the flexing. Usually he would never stay still for so long unless he was asleep. Maybe next time he'll make his new partner handle future phone calls and save himself from the hassle of waiting.

_Speaking of my new partner..._

"Kiiiid!" He called loudly in no particular direction. True to his expectation, the sound of footsteps were coming up and a few seconds later, the basement door swung open; the kid's white hair was the first thing to poke out.

"What?" Nero said sounding a little irritable.

Even though Dante knew the kid could hold his own against him in a fight, he found Nero's aloof mannerisms to be funny; maybe even a little cute - like the kid was begging to be bullied with the way he acted. But Dante held himself in check, remembering why he had called Nero up in the first place.

"Mind watching the office while I'm gone?"

"Where are you going?" Nero asked and Dante didn't miss the way the question was intoned, sounding like it was phrased to be an insult.

"A place where kids aren't allowed." He casually fired back. The temptation to poke fun at Nero was hard to resist, but he also wasn't lying either; Enzo lived in the seedier parts of Capulet - where adults go to have fun. Yet the smoldering look Nero gave him made Dante take back his words. "Well, I _am _going on a job. Tag along if you want."

Nero looked back over his shoulder, gazing down the stairs that led to his room. "Okay. Hold on." And he went back down.

_Bet he's going to hide that box of his..._

Dante sighed and grabbed his trench coat off the back of his chair and held it up to marvel at how talented his tailor was. It had recently came back from the tailor's and was cleanly patched up with not a single stitch in sight. No questions were asked either when he brought in a badly ruined coat bearing a giant hole - or more importantly - a giant hole covered in red stains; it was obviously blood because the stains crusted and flaked off his coat. But that was why he liked this particular tailor, who was an old woman in her 70's running a quaint little family shop. He had gone to the same tailor for years, and judging by her willingness to stay silent about his sketchy articles of clothing, she was either scared shitless of him or had some impressive sense of customer loyalty. Dante pulled on his favorite coat before he retrieved Rebellion from its rack. Next, he lifted Red Queen out just as Nero made it back up into the office.

He tossed Red Queen over to the younger, who caught it and strapped the sword onto his back without missing a beat. For a moment, Dante thought it would be nice to have a partner who could instinctively get on his level of thinking. It would make demon hunting jobs a whole lot more fun.

"All set?" He asked the younger and Nero nodded in an affirmative. "Good. Don't get distracted."

"I won't." And there was that confident undertone in Nero's reply as they both walked out of the double doors of Devil May Cry.

* * *

Shortly after, they had arrived at the place where Enzo was staying. The raised eyebrow and incredulous expression Nero had given him upon seeing the garish building was predictable.

"You go to a strip club called _Love Planet _for jobs?"

"Hey, it's not my fault that my friend likes to stay here." And then Dante added just for kicks, "But I do work part-time here on Saturdays. You should come watch me."

Nero actually laughed at the joke with a shake of his head and Dante felt happy seeing the kid's genuine smile.

That's not to say Dante himself had _never_ used the services offered. He did. At least he did in the distance past - back in his times of living life day to day without a care for human suffering. But ever since he met Trish, and then Lady later on, he became more sober and had stopped drowning himself in alcohol. Trish, even though she had betrayed him before, was the one who reminded him of his love for his mother, a human named Eva. On the other hand, Lady's hatred of demons had actually contrasted with his previous distance from humans. She was practically on the opposite side of the spectrum with his new views and it had been difficult to break through her walls, but over time Dante was able to show her that demons were also capable of emotions - that not all demons were beyond salvation. So through his close bonds with the two women, he was able to develop other close friendships that went beyond the easily forgotten one night stands.

Although Nero looked to be dealing with a different sort of issue, Dante hoped he could do the same for the kid and help him get out of whatever slump he was in.

The two enter a lavishly decorated lobby with its lush red carpets and velvet draperies. Added for effect was dim lighting to showcase the many candles glowing faintly on tables. The decor was trying to go for a romantic atmosphere, but the mood came off as erotic because of the many portraits depicting half naked women hanging on the cream colored walls. Beyond the bar was a curtained doorway and from his own experiences, Dante knew it led to the pole dancing area.

Dante slyly looked over at Nero to gauge his reaction and wasn't surprised when he saw that the kid was already eyeing the various women strutting about on heels. He doesn't blame the kid - it'd be difficult to _not _look at the lovely women when they were all dressed in clothes that left little room for the imagination.

"We're here on business. _Not pleasure._" Dante reminded Nero, fully enjoying the reddening look of annoyance that seethed from the kid's features.

"I'm not like you." He snapped, walking further in. But the kid obviously had no idea where to go... and where to look. So Dante had simply watched on in amusement when a group of girls started gravitating around him.

"Oh, look at him!"

"Isn't he handsome?"

"He looks just like _him._"

"Are you looking for a good time?"

The scandalous women were all enamored by him and each tried to gain his attention, "Oo"ing and "Ahh"ing over his appearance. Nero was being surrounded by them and was quickly becoming flustered from their close proximity. The only things the women had in common were their make-up and scarcity of clothes; every one of them showed off tantalizing skin for all to see and masked themselves in perfume that they thought would make them have a unique scent. But when they all gathered together like how they were currently doing to Nero, the strong smells would coagulate in the air and burn the nostrils of whoever smelled it.

From the distance, Dante could already pick up the growing panic on the younger's face, but he didn't want to step in just yet - he was having too much fun seeing Nero flail in his awkward nervousness. At first the young man held up a hand to try and stop their forward advances, but when one latched her arm around his right arm, the kid freaked out and shoved her away. The women squealed in fright at the abrupt show of force and backed away from him.

"How rude!" Rebuked a woman with blonde curls. She quickly went to the aid of the little brunette who had fallen to the floor and tried to comfort her with soothing words while giving Nero a critical look. The brunette stayed where she was, staring up at the ceiling and delicately fanning herself with her hands as she tried to keep her tears of embarrassment at bay.

Nero just stood stock-still; only his mouth was in motion, opening and closing like a fish, looking completely at a loss of how to explain his inappropriate reaction to a little unexpected contact. Dante took pity on the poor kid and leisurely walked towards him to try and smooth things over with the displeased group of women.

"My apologies, ladies." Dante said as he held his arms out apologetically to them. "My friend here gets a little too nervous when it comes to beautiful women." Then he winked over at the offended brunette and like a gentleman, he offered her a hand. She fluttered her lashes at him, blushing brightly as she daintily placed her fingers on his. After she was pulled her up to her feet, she swooned at Dante's charming smile, letting a breathy sigh escape her red colored lips.

"Thank you," she quietly murmured, losing the coquettish persona that all night escorts seemed to possess and turned docile under his gaze.

Nero was all but forgotten by the women as they flocked over to Dante instead. Yet now wasn't the greatest time to fool around and he gently told them that he had to go meet with someone. A few of the girls started displaying signs of jealousy from hearing his words, and each pouted their colored lips while one girl with glossy black hair asked who it was that he needed to see and if he could just skip it in favor of keeping them company.

"I'm here to see Enzo." He answered straightforwardly to emphasize that he was here on business and business _only._ The girls nodded their heads in disappointed understanding, but they crooned over him for a bit more, telling him to come visit again, before they went back to their duties of seeing to the other customers. A gust of air left Dante's lungs in a half laughter and he looked over at the kid who stood awkwardly off to the side, watching him. Dante felt like he should say something because the kid's expression of regret was disheartening. So he decided to go with, "In the future, I'm going to teach you how to handle the ladies more gently."

"Hn." Nero avoided any eye contact and stared down at his boots.

With a light sigh, Dante went over to Nero and ruffled the kid's hair in an attempt to distract Nero from his thoughts and calm him. This time the kid didn't bother with trying to avoid his touch and let his hair be petted. But the petting lasted a second too long and Nero tilted his head away, muttering a curse under his breath.

"Come on." Dante said after, dropping his hand back down to his sides. "Let's go upstairs."

It was dimmer on the second floor. A mixture of giggling and moaning could be heard from a multitude of rooms. Dante could already sense Nero shifting uncomfortably behind him and he smiled to himself about how cute the kid was behaving. Nero was practically an adult who went around hunting and killing demons without batting an eye, yet here he was getting fidgety from only hearing some R-rated voices.

_Then again... he can't even handle simple social interactions._

Room 207 was where they stopped in front of and Dante knocked on the wooden door. The sounds of shuffling was heard from the other side. It wasn't long until the brass doorknob turned and the door creaked open; one red-rimmed eye peeked out and was staring at them through the small crack.

"Dante...?" Came a groggy voice sounding heavy and laced with slur. Then the door shut again and there were various clicking and clacking noises as it was being unlocked. Once the door reopened, his friend Enzo stood disheveled at the entrance before he remembered to step aside for them to enter. Nero and Dante towered over the short stubby man - who stared up at them in mild irritation - as they came into his room. "wha... What are you doing here...?" He looked like he had just gotten out of bed with his tangled hair and wrinkled dress shirt.

"Why do you think?" Dante replied, casually casting his gaze around the room. It was just as gaudy in here as the rest of the club. "You were supposed to call."

Enzo grunted and slammed the door closed after everyone was inside. "If I had known my angry ex-boyfriend was comin' over, I'd have tidied up the place and put on a pretty blue dress."

"It's a good thing I didn't tell you. Gotta know what you're really up to behind my back." Dante chuckled, going along with his friend's banter. He could never get over Enzo's peculiar accent. "So about that job."

"Of course - almost forgot." And Enzo tapped his temple knowingly before he used his hands to slick back his bedraggled hair; it didn't quite work, but Dante wasn't going to point it out - or the fact that Enzo really had forgotten.

The portly man wobbled over to a table, picked up a rectangular metal case, and pulled out a cigar to place between his lips. He flicked open a small lighter and lit up the end; it burned brightly as he inhaled his daily dose of nicotine and tucked the lighter back into his pocket. After a few more puffs to get himself going, Enzo started to speak around the obstruction between his lips, "Some of my other guys went missing yesterday. Sent them on a low-class job and haven't seen them since. Sheesh! What am I paying these guys for?" Another puff. "Dante, I want you to go find 'em, and bring 'em back."

"I'm not playing fetch, Enzo." Dante said, feeling a little let down. He was hoping he'd get something more interesting. "I thought this was a real job."

"It is! Don't you deal with weird shit that goes bump in the night? What were they, uh...?" Enzo gesticulated with his hand, moving his wrists in a circular motion as he tried to call up the word from his hung-over mind.

"Demons?" Dante quirked his eyebrow at Enzo's alternate choice of words.

"Yeah. Them." He said, snapping his fingers in remembrance. "Who cares? Can you do it or not?"

"Alright. Fine." Pay or no pay, if a job involved hunting demons then he'd always be up for it. Still, it never hurt to receive a little _something_ for his efforts. He was keeping the streets a little safer at night after all. "I'll find your guys."

"Attaboy! How 'bout I get the bartender to pay you with pizza again?" It was like Enzo had read his mind.

"You drive a hard bargain..." Dante said, words trailing off as he pretended to think about the offer.

And the two break into amiable laughter. That was when Enzo finally took notice of Nero; the kid had his arms crossed in silent patience and was leaning against the wall beside the entrance. He looked like he hadn't moved at all since they came into the room.

"I forgot 'bout this guy." Enzo wobbled over to the kid while Dante strode along behind him. "Hey! He looks exactly like you!" He piped up, turning to look up at both their faces to try and compare.

"Now what would've make you think that?" Dante asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Don't be a wise-ass." Enzo snapped briskly. "He your kid?"

"Hell no." Dante and Nero answered in unison. Both of the hunters made eye contact and Nero turned away quickly after, rubbing at his nose.

"Sure. You guys probably think and talk alike too." The portly man chewed on the butt of his cigar for a bit before he asked, "What's your name?"

"Nero."

"You Dante's new partner or somethin'?"

"Yeah."

"That's funny. He usually works with girls." And Enzo quirked a brow at the new information.

"Do not." Dante interjected. "I've worked with other guys before." But then beneath the surface of his mock petulance, Dante remembered his twin brother and felt a twinge of guilt.

"Pretty sure you don't even rememba the last one you worked with." Enzo said with a snort to Dante, oblivious of his own callous words, and then he turned back to Nero. "Don't talk much, do ya?"

This time Nero didn't bother with his usual short and quick responses - Nero didn't saying anything. In fact, he was looking at Dante; face stoic and not betraying whatever was on his mind. Nero's passive staring felt strangely intrusive to Dante, like the kid was almost _scrutinizing_ him.

"Hey-"

"He's a little shy." Dante finally answered, interrupting Enzo before he could ask about the hitch in their conversation and it earned him a half-glare from the younger, his penetrating gaze suddenly gone.

"Okay. I get it. We can chit-chat more, later." Enzo opened the door for the two hunters and ushered them out of his room. "I sent them down to 11th avenue. Go check if they're still there." The door slammed closed and locks were clicking back in place behind them.

The kid was already starting down the stairs and Dante trailed after him. Downstairs, the girls gave Nero a wide berth as he headed for the exit, but when they saw Dante following along, some of the girls stopped him and looked quite happy to see him again.

"Dante, you should teach your friend to be more _sociable_." The same woman with blonde curls crooned to him in her velvety voice. Her implications weren't lost on Dante. "It's such a shame for a handsome face like that to go to waste." She lifted a slender hand to rub at the stubble on his jaw and hummed appreciatively.

He chuckled then because he found it funny how he had thought of something similar to that earlier. Not the handsome face part, though.

"No promises there." He told her before he carefully extracted himself from the group of women and proceeded to catch up to Nero, who was probably waiting for him outside.

When Dante came through the double doors and caught sight of Nero, he felt a need to check up on the kid. It was never a good sign if he got too quiet. With an utter lack for discretion, he never took his eyes off of Nero's features, returning the favor from earlier. He watched Nero closely, noticing the subtle shift to a frown on the kid's lips, the slight crease forming between his brows, and the obvious narrowing of his eyes. So when focused blue irises confronted his persistent stare, Dante knew he had gotten Nero's attention.

"You have a staring problem, you know that?" Nero said, but there was no hint of annoyance in his voice.

_So do you. _Dante wanted to add, but said, "Just trying to see if you had fun."

"I didn't."

"Well I told you it's not a place for-"

"I wanted to come." Nero answered, cutting off the rest of Dante's sentence.

Now the kid was just being difficult.

"You must hate being home alone then." Dante teased as they continued down the street toward the inner city districts. 11th Avenue wasn't that far of a trek - they would be there in about 15 minutes. "Papa would've came back."

"Yeah. Like I need you to tuck me in at night." Nero deadpanned.

"I just might have to." Dante quipped.

That got a breathy little laugh out of the kid and Dante joined in too, feeling proud that he got a second smile from Nero.

"You'd be pretty popular with the ladies if you didn't act so cold." He said, thinking back on how Nero's social skills needed improvement.

"I'm not interested." Nero stated, shrugging his shoulders.

"But what if someone was?"

"I wouldn't care." The kid was starting to appear uncomfortable with the conversation and switched topics, "Look, let's just get this job done, okay?"

Dante let the topic slide and remarked in amusement, "Well aren't we in a hurry to go home now." But Nero kept walking as if he didn't hear the jibe.

It had gotten windy while they were inside the strip club and the sun was slowly sinking in the red sky, coloring the passing clouds a fierce orange while outlining them with bright golden highlights. 11th avenue was unusually quiet for this time of day; there was no sign of life anywhere - not on the brick paved streets, not on the sidewalks, not near the buildings or even behind windows. It was as if people were hiding.

Ahead of them, a giant warehouse door was swinging loudly on its broken hinges - squeaking open then clacking closed. Dante motioned for Nero to stick close; the younger nodded his head and followed behind him as they made their way to the building. The wind was blowing harder now, making the door swing wide open before slamming with a crash. When they reached the seemingly desolate warehouse, Dante grabbed the iron handle of the oak door to hold it open. Even with his hand firmly gripping the door in place, he could feel the push and pull of the gale.

His eyes flickered over to Nero, signaling to the younger that he needed to be ready; Nero understood his nonverbal command and kept a hand over the hilt of his revolver, Blue Rose, which was holstered on his leg. Nero slipped in first and Dante spared a moment to look back over his shoulders. On the horizon, he saw a mass of purple storm clouds melding with the fading orange calm. He released the handle and stepped inside before the wooden door could hit him on his way in.

Nothing but discarded and forgotten furniture occupied the space inside of the warehouse; the white sheets tossed over crates and barrels were grayed from collecting dust and the only bit of color in the shadowed interior seeped in from a single window on the open second floor. It would have looked no different from any other ram-shackled warehouse, but his foot had kicked away something on the ground; the metallic rolling sound was barely loud enough to be heard over the howling wind and racket of the slamming door. On a closer inspection of the tiny object, Dante realized that the floor was littered with bullet shells.

"Guess we found where they were last." Dante swept his gaze across the area. He wasn't sensing anything yet and when he looked back at Nero, at his now revealed Devil Bringer, he could see that the kid hadn't picked up anything either. "Go check upstairs." He ordered Nero and the two split up to search.

As Dante crouched down to examine the empty casings, he took note of the elongated scar lines running across the aged floorboards. The cuts looked to be clean and precise, but there was not a speck blood - no bodies; all he had to go on was the marks and used bullets - neither could explain the outcome of the fight.

_Where were they? _Dante stood back up and looked around again. Above, he heard the scraping of something heavy being moved. That gave him the idea to do the same. _Behind?_

Then he spotted it; there was a door barely hidden behind some crates and the sheet covering the crates had a hand print showing a lighter white beneath the dust. He went over to the door while he listened to the sound of Nero's footsteps echoing above him and pushed aside the crates to gain better access to the door.

Then the smell of blood reached his nose. Dante eyed the door handle cautiously; something was on the other side and he was willing to bet that he wasn't going to like what he'll find. He yanked open the door and was buffeted by the cloying scent of copper. On the ground in front of him was the body of a man severed in half; his entrails were spilled out from his upper half, laying exposed in a pool of blood. Dante leaned into the small space.

_Looks like we're too late... He's already been dead for a while... _The edge of the pool was clotted and crusting; the man's skin was pale - devoid of any warm colors - and made the blue bags beneath his misted eyes a stark contrast against his grayed skin. Dante reached over to the man's face and gently shut his eyes. _I'll kill the demon responsible for this_, he told himself.

Suddenly, the surface of the puddle rippled. Dante looked down to see the reflection of a black cloud floating above him. Through the dark red, a ghastly distorted face was staring right at him and the haunting sound of laughter reverberated in the air of the cramped space. Out of the corners of his peripheral, Dante noticed something moving slowly away from the sides of his head. He dropped low to the floor, gloved hand streaking the sticky cold puddle of blood, and ducked down in time as he heard the sliding of metal over metal just over his head.

Giant blades steadily separated, opening up again. The shadowy cloaked figure hovered above him, clinging to the ceiling and filling the space with its ethereal dark energy - the ends of its black frayed cloak danced and billowed in the still air.

Dante rolled out of the way when the blades came down in what would have been a fatal thrust. One blade jammed into the floorboard while the other drove itself into the leg of the man's corpse, severing yet another limb. Dante winced inwardly at the sight and was grateful that the man was already dead - only because it meant he wouldn't be able to feel any pain from the damage inflicted.

Ghostly laughter echoed again throughout the warehouse as the giant scissors wiggled free from where they had stuck. And when Dante heard the sounds of gunshots, he knew that Nero was already engaging in his own battle.

* * *

**A/N**: This chapter had to be cut in half due to its size and I wanted more time to set up the later parts of it. I was also creating new chapter outlines. This story wants to do things its own way. FU- Hopefully I won't be late next time. Hopefully I won't suck as much. I may have made mistakes regarding Enzo (possibly others as well). Don't fully know his character personality well but I did do some research. So let's say they're still working together?

Again. Sorry.

Thank you for reading!


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